THE  STUDY  OF 
SHAKESPEARE 


THE 
STUDY  OF  SHAKESPEARE 


BY 
HENRY  THEW  STEPHENSON 

AUTHOR  OF  M  SHAKESPEARE'S  LONDON  "  AND  "  THE 
ELIZABETHAN  PEOPLE" 


NEW  YORK 

HENRY  HOLT  AND  COMPANY 


(&f&.6U^ 


33o3S/ 


COPTBISHT,   1915, 
BY 

HENRY  HOLT  AND  COMPANY 


THE    OUINN   &    BODEN    CO.    PREM 
RAHWAY,   N.  t. 


TO 
MARGARET  LOUISE  STEPHENSON 


829103 


PREFACE 

For  some  fifteen  years  I  have  conducted  classes 
in  the  study  of  Shakespeare  at  the  University  of 
Indiana.  I  early  found  that  great  advantage  was 
derived  from  an  intimate  knowledge  of  the  social 
conditions  that  obtained  at  the  time  the  plays  were 
written.  My  attempt  to  furnish  some  assistance  in 
this  direction  by  the  publication  of  an  account  of 
Shakespeare's  London  and  of  the  people  of  Eliza- 
beth's generation  has  given  me  confidence  in  the 
preparation  of  a  handbook  designed  differently  from 
many  now  in  use. 

Though  criticism  of  the  plays  forms  the  larger 
part  of  the  following  pages,  I  have  had  no  intention 
of  writing  a  volume  of  criticism.  The  book  is  not 
intended  to  be  read  on  its  independent  merits,  but  in 
conjunction  with  a  study  of  the  texts.  Though  I 
hope  it  will  be  of  interest  to  those  already  familiar 
with  the  plays  of  Shakespeare,  it  is  primarily  ad- 
dressed to  students. 

Inasmuch  as  it  is  intended  to  be  an  assistance, 
I  have  not  felt  it  necessary  to  discuss  the  obvious. 
Oftentimes  a  mere  suggestion  is  sufficient  to  start 
the  reader  aright  so  that  he  will  discover  all  that  is 
necessary  without  further  assistance.  For  instance, 
I  have  frequently  observed  a  class  which  read  The 
Taming  of  the  Shrew  without  the  least  compre- 
hension of  its  meaning.     To  the  members  of  the  class 

vii 


viii  PREFACE 

the  characters  were  unnatural,  the  plot  impossible. 
Nearly  all  of  them  had  read  Alice's  Adventures  in 
Wonderland,  and  had  appreciated  the  running  al- 
lusions throughout  to  the  game  of  chess.  A  brief 
explanation  of  how,  in  the  same  way,  the  well-known 
process  of  taming  a  female  hawk  to  fit  her  for  the 
chase  is  the  framework  upon  which  Shakespeare  built 
up  his  farce,  enabled  the  class  to  read  the  play  again 
from  a  view-point  that  exposed  all  its  delightful 
qualities,  and  rid  it  of  its  former  disagreeable  effect. 
To  direct  the  student  to  the  Elizabethan  point  of 
view  is  one  of  the  principal  tasks  essayed  in  the 
following  pages. 

Again  the  play  of  Hamlet  is  full  of  puzzling 
passages,  many  of  which  are  surprisingly  clear  if 
the  stage  aspect  of  the  play  is  emphasized.  Many  a 
person  has  thoughtlessly  repeated  the  opinion  that 
Hamlet,  in  speaking  of  "  an  antic  disposition,"  is 
thinking  of  the  future.  But  one  who  can  image  the 
stage  picture  vividly  to  himself  will  be  thinking  of 
Hamlet's  strange  behavior  a  moment  before,  and  of 
his  "  wild  and  whirling  words."  To  such  a  student 
Hamlet's  words  naturally  associate  themselves  with 
the  antic  disposition  he  is  at  that  moment  casting 
off.  There  is  no  need  to  find  a  future  application. 
Hence  the  purely  stage  side  of  the  plays  is  made 
a  matter  of  frequent  emphasis. 

Furthermore,  as  the  book  is  intended  to  be  an 
assistance  to  those  who  are  studying  the  plays,  I 
have  made  a  selection  including  those  most  likely  to 
be  read,  giving  to  each  play  more  attention  than 
would  be  possible  were  the  whole  list  involved. 

I  have  also  tried  to  make  the  subject-matter  useful 


PREFACE  ix 

not  only  to  class-room  students  but  also  to  members 
of  clubs  who  are  reading  on  their  own  initiative,  or 
receive  the  assistance  of  an  instructor  but  occasion- 
ally. 

Shakespeare's  plays  are  so  diverse  that  it  is  im- 
possible to  formulate  a  uniform  scheme  for  the  study 
of  the  entire  set  of  plays  considered.  However, 
wherever  possible  I  have  spoken  of  details  in  the 
order  in  which  they  occur  in  the  play,  taking  up 
last  such  general  considerations  as  depend  for  their 
discussion  upon  a  familiarity  with  the  play  as  a  whole. 

The  line  numbers  used  throughout  refer  to  The 
Tudor  Edition,  published  by  The  Macmillan  Com- 
pany. 

The  writer  will  sincerely  appreciate  any  correc- 
tions or  suggestions  for  the  effective  improvement  of 
the  book. 

H.  T.  S. 

Indiana  University, 
November  1,  1914. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 
I 

Shakespeare's  Biography  . 

PAGE 
1 

II 

A  General  View  of  London  . 

7 

III 

The  Playhouses  .... 

25 

IV 

Quartos  and  Folios   . 

49 

V 

Shakespeare's  Verse  . 

55 

VI 

Chronological  List  of  Plays  . 

.        62 

VII 

Dramatic  Structure  . 

64 

VIII 

How  to  Read  a  Play 

.        75 

IX 

A  Brief  Working  Bibliography 

82 

f  x 

Richard  the  Third    . 

85 

XI 

Richard  the  Second  . 

112 

/  XII 

Henry  the  Fifth 

.      134 

XIII 

Romeo  and  Juliet 

.      155 

XIV 

The  Taming  of  the  Shrew 

168 

XV 

The  Merchant  of  Venice 

.      174 

XVI 

Julius   C^sar       .... 

,     190 

y  xvn 

Hamlet 

.     207 

XVIII 

King   Lear 

.     250 

XIX 

Macbeth 

.      264 

XX 

The   Tempest       .... 

285 

Index     

297 

THE  STUDY  OF  SHAKESPEARE 

CHAPTER  I 
SHAKESPEARE'S  BIOGRAPHY 

The  poet's  father  was  John  Shakespeare  of  Snit- 
terfield,  who  married  in  1557  Mary  Arden  of  Wilm- 
cote,  near  Stratford.  Some  five  or  six  years  before 
his  marriage  John  Shakespeare  moved  from  Snitter- 
field  to  Stratford,  where  he  was  living  at  the  time 
of  the  poet's  birth.  Stratford  was  then  a  small  but 
flourishing  country  town  on  one  of  the  main  thor- 
oughfares to  London;  and  John  Shakespeare  soon 
became  one  of  its  prominent  citizens. 

In  1552  he  was  living  in  a  house  in  Henley  Street, 
either  the  house  now  known  as  the  poet's  birthplace, 
or  the  one  adjoining.  He  set  himself  up  in  business 
as  a  trader  with  a  miscellaneous  assortment  of  wares, 
a  fact  which  doubtless  accounts  for  his  designation 
among  older  historians  as  a  glover  by  one,  a  butcher 
by  another.  During  the  next  few  years  he  was  pros- 
perous in  a  worldly  way,  occupying  successively  sev- 
eral important  offices  in  the  gift  of  the  municipality. 

The  poet  was  the  third  child  and  first  son  of  John 
Shakespeare.  He  was  baptized  in  the  parish  church, 
April  26,  1564.  It  was  then  customary  for  this  cere- 
mony to  take  place  as  soon  after  birth  as  possible. 


2  SHAKESPEARE 

There  is,  however,  no  authority  for  the  usually  ac- 
cepted date  of  his  birth,  April  22  or  April  23. 

Stratford  possessed  a  good  free  grammar  school, 
which  Shakespeare  probably  entered  about  1571.  In- 
struction was  principally  carried  on  in  Latin,  a  lan- 
guage the  rudiments  of  which  were  known  to  the 
poet,  though  he  seems  never  to  have  become  a  pro- 
ficient scholar.  There  is  no  reason  to  believe  that 
he  ever  studied  Greek.  A  reading  knowledge  of 
Italian  was  probably  picked  up  after  leaving  Strat- 
ford. The  acquirement  of  his  knowledge  of  French 
may  have  begun  at  Stratford  and  have  been  continued 
by  himself  in  later  years.  He  possessed  no  claim  to 
be  called  "  one  skilled  in  the  tongues  " ;  on  the  other 
hand,  he  certainly  possessed  a  good  foundation  in 
Latin,  French,  and,  perhaps,  Italian.  Doubtless  he 
read  little.  The  Bible  was  probably  to  him  the  most 
accessible  book  in  English.  Though  his  plays  con- 
tain many  biblical  allusions,  they  suggest,  as  Mr. 
Lee  puts  it,  "  youthful  reminiscence  and  the  assimi- 
lative tendency  of  the  mind  in  a  stage  of  early  de- 
velopment rather  than  close  and  continuous  study  of 
the  Bible  in  adult  life."  *  It  should  be  remembered 
in  this  connection  that  the  service  of  the  Church  of 
England  provides  for  the  continuous  reading  of  both 
the  Old  and  the  New  Testament. 

Shakespeare  was  still  a  schoolboy  in  1575  when 
Queen  Elizabeth  visited  Robert  Dudley  at  Kenil- 
worth.  He  was,  however,  probably  withdrawn  from 
school  in  1577,  when  but  thirteen  years  of  age,  to 
be  apprenticed  to  his  father.     This  move  was  proba- 

*  Sidney  Lee :  A  Life  of  William  Shakespeare.  Revised 
edition.     Page  17. 


SHAKESPEARE'S  BIOGRAPHY  3 

bly  due  to  the  declining  family  fortunes.  For  some 
years  John  Shakespeare's  fortunes  and  his  promi- 
nence in  civic  affairs  had  been  on  the  wane.  Records 
of  his  borrowings  and  of  the  sale  of  some  of  his  prop- 
erty show  that  in  a  worldly  way  he  was  in  distress. 
Never  again  did  he  regain  his  former  position  of  im^ 
portance. 

Shakespeare's  marriage  in  1582  has  given  rise  to 
endless  speculation.  The  whole  subject  has  been 
treated  in  detail  by  Mr.  Lee.  The  facts,  stripped  of 
all  inference,  are  as  follows:  Anne  Hathaway  was 
the  poet's  senior  by  eight  years;  the  marriage  was 
arranged  and  solemnized  in  a  hasty  and  irregular 
manner,  mainly  at  the  instigation  of  the  friends  of 
the  bride;  within  six  months  a  daughter  was  born  to 
the  poet.  In  after  life  Shakespeare  did  not  scruple 
to  live  away  from  his  wife  and  family  for  the  better 
part  of  twenty  years,  though  he  visited  Stratford 
occasionally,  and  at  last  returned  to  his  home  and 
family  to  spend  the  years  that  followed  his  retirement 
from  the  London  stage. 

While  still  a  resident  of  Stratford,  Shakespeare 
acquired  a  familiar  knowledge  of  outdoor  life.  In  his 
plays  the  art  and  practice  of  falconry  is  at  his  tongue's 
end.  He  knew  about  horses  and  dogs.  Flowers  were 
his  familiar  friends.  He  knew  every  superstition 
and  all  the  folklore  of  the  countryside.  Above  all, 
he  knew  the  country  characters  and  their  pranks. 

In  fact,  association  with  a  group  of  these  country 
characters  in  one  of  their  ribald  escapades  was,  ac- 
cording to  persistent  tradition,  the  cause  of  his  leav- 
ing Stratford.  The  hall  and  park  of  Charlecote  was 
the  most  pretentious  estate  in  the  immediate  neigh- 


4  SHAKESPEARE 

borhood  of  his  home  town.  Shakespeare,  in  company 
with  other  idle  fellows,  raided  the  deer  park  at 
Charlecote.  For  this  they  were  severely  prosecuted  by 
the  owner  of  the  park,  Sir  Thomas  Lucy.  In  retalia- 
tion Shakespeare  is  said  to  have  written  a  ballad  which 
so  incensed  Sir  Thomas  that  he  redoubled  his  perse- 
cutions. In  order  to  escape,  Shakespeare  fled  from 
Stratford.  In  later  years  he  vented  his  spleen  by 
caricaturing  Sir  Thomas  Lucy  in  the  person  of  Jus- 
tice Shallow  of  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor. 

Traditions  that  attempt  to  fill  up  the  gap  of  the 
next  few  years  in  the  poet's  life  are  wholly  without 
a  proved  foundation.  It  is  idle  to  guess  where  he 
went;  and  what  he  did  is  not  known.  He  probably 
left  Stratford  in  1585.  We  next  hear  of  him  in 
London  about  1590,  under  circumstances  that  imply 
that  he  had  been  there  for  some  time  and  was  already 
firmly  footed  in  the  theatrical  world. 

During  Shakespeare's  career  there  were  many  com- 
panies of  actors ;  not  nearly  so  many,  however,  as  the 
numerous  names  applied  to  them  would  suggest. 
There  were  two  companies  of  men  actors  of  far 
greater  prominence  than  any  others.  One  was  under 
the  associate  management  of  the  money  lender,  Philip 
Henslowe,  and  his  son-in-law,  the  great  actor,  Edward 
Alleyn.  From  their  patron,  the  Lord  High  Admiral, 
they  were  known  as  the  Admiral's  Men. 

The  other  and  more  notable  company  was  the  one 
to  which  Shakespeare  belonged.  It  is  known  by 
many  names.  Leicester's  early  company,  under  the 
patronage  of  Robert  Dudley,  Earl  of  Leicester,  be- 
came at  his  death  in  1588  Lord  Strange's  Men.  They 
became  known  later,  in  all  probability,  by  the  name 


SHAKESPEARE'S  BIOGRAPHY  5 

of  his  subsequent  title,  Lord  Derby.  Under  suc- 
cessive patrons  this  company  was  known  as  Lord 
Hunsden's  Men,  and  as  the  Chamberlain's  Men. 
After  the  accession  of  James  in  1603  they  were  known 
as  the  King's  Men.  Shakespeare  is  known  to  have 
been  a  member  of  the  company  as  early  as  1594;  and 
there  is  no  reason  to  doubt  the  probability  that  he 
was  connected  with  it  from  the  beginning  of  his  the- 
atrical career. 

What  Shakespeare's  first  duties  about  the  play- 
house were  we  do  not  know.  When  he  appears  again 
in  history  after  his  flight  from  Stratford  he  is  an 
actor  of  minor  roles,  and  a  maker-over  of  old  plays, 
with,  perhaps,  a  play  or  two  of  his  own  to  his  credit. 
For  many  years  he  continued  to  act,  taking  subordi- 
nate parts  in  some  of  his  own  plays.  For  the  next 
twenty  years,  however,  his  biography,  as  known  to  us, 
is  mainly  the  record  of  the  succession  of  his  dramas. 

It  is  easy  to  piece  out  in  broad  lines  the  history 
of  his  life  during  this  period  of  twenty  years.  He 
never  became  a  great  actor.  He  soon,  however,  passed 
beyond  the  apprentice  stage  of  play  writing.  From 
a  maker-over  of  old  plays  he  soon  became  a  writer 
of  original  plays,  for  some  years  mainly  in  imitation 
of  the  established  writers  of  the  day.  Then  he  broke 
loose  from  the  trammels  of  imitation  to  write  the  long 
list  of  dramas  on  which  his  fame  rests  to-day.  A 
study  of  his  plays  shows  him  a  constant  student. 
Books  he  read,  to  be  sure,  and  many  of  them;  but 
it  is  as  a  student  of  the  life  about  him  that  he  stands 
pre-eminent.  A  consideration  of  plays  following  the 
Essex  Rebellion  discloses  a  temporary  morbidness 
that  to  many  implies  some  unfortunate  connection  with 


6  SHAKESPEARE 

that  ill-starred  attempt  to  supplant  Elizabeth.  An- 
other dark  page  in  his  history  is  disclosed  vaguely  to 
some  by  the  description  of  an  intrigue  set  forth  in  the 
sonnets.    But  this  is  a  shadowy  inference  at  the  best. 

Meantime  he  was  growing  rich.  He  derived  a  rev- 
enue, not  only  as  play  writer  and  play  actor,  but  also 
as  sharer  in  the  company's  profits.  The  latter  was 
probably  his  chief  source  of  income.  About  1610  or 
1611  he  retired  from  the  theatrical  world.  He  had 
from  time  to  time  purchased  properties  in  Stratford, 
among  them  the  most  prominent  private  house  in 
town.  To  New  Place  he  returned  to  live  the  remain- 
ing years  of  his  life. 

Shakespeare  died  at  Stratford,  April  23,  1616.  On 
April  25  he  was  buried  in  the  parish  church.  His 
wife  and  his  two  daughters,  Judith  [Quiney]  and 
Susanna  [Hall]  survived  him.  By  1623,  the  year  the 
Folio  Edition  of  his  plays  was  published,  a  bust  of 
the  poet  was  placed  in  Stratford  church.  This  is  one 
of  the  two  likenesses  that  are  known  to  have  been  in 
existence  at  such  an  early  date.  The  other  is  the 
portrait  engraved  on  the  title  page  of  the  First  Folio. 

Besides  his  worldly  goods  Shakespeare  left  a  book 
of  sonnets,  a  few  minor  poems  that  are  doubtfully 
attributed  to  him,  two  long  narrative  poems,  and  the 
plays.  The  list  of  plays  shows  Shakespeare's  versa- 
tility. Nine  of  them  are  history  plays,  among  which 
are  the  very  best  of  their  type;  there  are  a  couple 
of  farces,  one  of  which  is,  perhaps,  the  best  produced 
during  the  generation.  There  are  numerous  comedies 
and  tragi-comedies.  But  upon  the  great  series  of 
tragedies  which  began  with  Julius  Ccesar  and  ended 
with  Coriolanus  Shakespeare's  position  rests  supreme. 


CHAPTER  II 
A  GENERAL  VIEW  OF  LONDON 

Roughly  speaking,  mediaeval  London  began  with 
the  building  of  the  White  Tower  by  William  the  Con- 
queror, and  ended  with  the  great  fire  of  1666. 
Throughout  this  long  period  changes  were  made  from 
year  to  year;  but,  after  the  great  religious  establish- 
ments were  once  built,  the  face  of  London  changed 
so  slowly  that  the  picture  of  one  generation  is  the 
picture  of  the  next.  The  most  sudden  sweeping 
change  was  made  at  the  Dissolution  of  the  Monas- 
teries, and  the  period  of  most  rapid  expansion  was 
the  reign  of  Elizabeth.  It  is  the  London  of  the  latter 
half  of  the  sixteenth  century  and  the  beginning  of 
the  seventeenth,  the  most  brilliant  period  in  its  his- 
tory between  Hastings  and  the  Fire,  that  the  follow- 
ing pages  essay  to  present. 

Three  hundred  years  ago  the  relative  importance 
of  London  to  the  rest  of  England  was  even  greater 
than  it  is  to-day.  All  the  theaters  and  all  the  pub- 
lishers of  note  were  in  London  or  in  the  immediate 
vicinity.  The  court  was  held  for  most  of  the  time 
at  Westminster.  There  was  but  one  Royal  Exchange 
in  the  kingdom.  All  persons  of  any  pretense  to 
wealth  or  influence  possessed  their  town  house  or  inn. 
The  city  set  the  manners  and  furnished  the  news  for 
the  whole  island;  it  was,  indeed,  the  heart  of  the 
kingdom. 

7 


8  SHAKESPEARE 

In  order  to  draw  a  fancy  picture  of  the  Eliza- 
bethan city  as  Shakespeare  knew  it,  one  who  is  fa- 
miliar with  the  modern  metropolis  must  blot  from 
his  mind  all  present  associations — not  only  in  regard 
to  size,  but  also  in  regard  to  outward  aspect,  and  in 
the  manners  and  customs  of  the  people;  for  in  these 
respects  the  city  of  that  day  was  wholly  different 
from  the  city  of  this.  It  should  be  remembered  that 
the  fire  of  1666  practically  swept  away  all  but  the 
suburbs  of  Elizabethan  London.  Hardly  a  town  in  the 
world  of  ancient  origin  preserves  so  few  of  its  orig- 
inal structures  as  does  the  capital  of  England.  One 
can  go  about  the  city  to-day  and  encounter  practically 
nothing  besides  the  street  names  that  reminds  him 
of  times  before  the  Fire.  Roughly  speaking,  a  line 
connecting  the  Tower,  Crosby  Hall,  Christ  Church, 
Ludgate  Circus,  and  the  approach  to  Blackfriar's 
Bridge  includes  the  part  of  the  city  destroyed  by 
the  great  conflagration.  And  this  area,  though  it  is 
but  a  small  part  of  the  city  we  know,  constituted  the 
major  part  of  the  city  in  1600.* 

In  the  latter  part  of  the  sixteenth  century  a  Dutch 
traveler  by  the  name  of  Hentzner  visited  England, 
and  afterward  wrote  a  very  interesting  account  of 
his  foreign  travels.  He  visited  London,  and  his  quaint 
account  of  the  sights  is  full  of  the  local  color  of 
which  we  are  so  desirous.  Let  us  for  a  moment  sta- 
tion ourselves  where  he  must  have  been  when  he  first 
caught  a  glimpse  of  what  was  then,  as  it  is  to-day, 
one  of  the  chief  cities  of  the  world. 

We  are  on  the  Surrey  side,  approaching  London 

*  The  part  of  the  modern  metropolis  known  as  The  City 
approximates  in  area  the  Elizabethan  city. 


A  GENERAL  VIEW  OF  LONDON  9 

along  the  old  Roman  road  which  leads  to  the  bridge. 
Perhaps  before  Hentzner  crossed  the  river  he  visited 
St.  Mary  Overies.  If  he  had  ascended  the  Tower 
he  would  have  seen  a  splendid  sight.  Across  a  river 
that  was  as  unlike  the  modern  Thames  as  imagina- 
tion can  picture  lay  the  bustling  city.  The  river  was 
clear  and  shining,  sparkling  with  swans  that  swam 
gracefully  in  miniature  fleets  of  snowy  whiteness.  Be- 
hind, on  either  side,  and  beyond  the  busy  capital  were 
green  fields  spotted  with  flowers  or  covered  with 
golden  grain  and  emerald  turf.  The  city  itself  was 
nestled  upon  three  hills.  On  an  eminence  to  the  right 
rose  the  many-towered  walls  of  the  citadel  surround- 
ing the  lofty  White  Tower  of  William  the  Norman. 
Two  small  valleys  rendered  visible  by  the  dip  in  the 
red-tiled  roof  line  separate  it  from  the  great  cathedral 
pile  of  St.  Paul's.  This  church  was  the  glory  of  all 
England.  No  other  cathedral  in  the  kingdom  was  so 
beautiful,  the  source  of  so  much  pride;  and  one  who 
looks  at  the  modern  structure  that  occupies  its  site 
sighs  with  deep-felt  regret  over  the  ignominious 
contrast. 

What  perhaps  impressed  the  Dutch  traveler  most 
was  the  innumerable  collection  of  spires  that  rose 
from  the  densely  populated  city.  The  Dissolution  of 
the  Monasteries  had  not  fallen  lightly  upon  London; 
in  fact,  it  had  left  it,  as  Mr.  Besant  says,  a  city  of 
ruins.  For  all  that,  the  parish  churches  had  been 
spared.  Hardly  one  had  fallen  in  the  national  game 
of  snatch-grab  that  followed  the  Dissolution.  Stow 
tells  us  that  there  were  no  less  than  a  hundred  and 
twenty,  and  all  of  these  were  provided  with  towers 
or  steeples.     Yet,  high  above  the  clustered  mass  of 


10  SHAKESPEARE 

slender  spires  rose  the  great  bulk  of  the  cathedral. 
Its  lofty,  graceful  spire,  however,  had  been  burned 
some  years  before,  and  only  a  mutilated  stump  re- 
placed it. 

If  we  pause  for  a  moment  to  listen  we  can  hear 
the  mingled  peals  of  bells  and  the  roar  of  the  city, 
for  it  was  even  more  noisy  then  than  now.  People 
lived  in  the  streets  and  used  them  constantly  as  a 
daily  convenience  that  is  suggested  to  one  by  modern 
Paris,  not  by  London. 

Immediately  beneath  us  lies  the  only  bridge  across 
the  Thames.  London  Bridge  of  those  days  was  a 
little  east  of  the  present  structure;  in  fact,  it  crossed 
the  river  just  where  St.  Magnus*  Church  now  stands. 
It  was  an  arched  bridge  of  nearly  a  score  of  arches, 
no  two  of  them  exactly  the  same  in  width.  About 
the  piers  were  timber  frameworks  of  wood  that  so 
encroached  upon  the  waterway  that  the  flow  while  the 
tide  was  rising  and  falling  was  greatly  impeded. 
Such  obstacles  were  thes.  lozenge-shaped  "  starlings," 
that  the  backing  up  of  the  water  at  mid-tide  pro- 
duced a  fall  beneath  the  bridge  of  several  feet.  Pen- 
nant alludes  to  the  sound  of  the  falling  waters  in  the 
following  words :  "  Nothing  but  use  could  preserve 
the  rest  of  the  inmates  who  soon  grew  deaf  to  the 
sound  of  falling  water,  the  clamors  of  watermen,  or 
the  frequent  shrieks  of  drowning  wretches."  The  old 
plays  sometimes  refer  to  the  sound  of  the  bridge 
being  heard  over  the  whole  city.  This  natural  water- 
fall was  pressed  into  use  to  operate  a  set  of  force 
pumps  that  supplied  water  to  a  large  part  of  the 
city.  Much  of  the  local  travel  that  is  now  carried 
on  in  cabs  was  then  performed  upon  the  river  in  small 


A  GENERAL  VIEW  OF  LONDON         11 

boats.  The  cry  with  which  one  hailed  a  waterman 
was  Westward  ho!  or  Eastward  ho!  according  to  the 
direction.  If,  in  the  journey,  it  was  necessary  to 
cross  the  bridge  at  mid-tide  the  passenger  had  to 
land  and  wait.  Sometimes  they  "  shot  "  the  bridge, 
that  is,  took  their  chances  of  mishap  and  went  over 
the  fall.  The  danger  that  attended  this  kind  of 
rapid  transit  gave  rise  to  the  proverb :  London  Bridge 
was  made  for  wise  men  to  walk  over  and  fools  to 
go  under.  When  the  Princess  Elizabeth,  afterwards 
the  Queen,  was  conveyed  a  prisoner  to  the  Tower, 
it  was  necessary  for  the  boatman  to  row  about  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  bridge  for  an  hour  before  it  was 
deemed  safe  to  "  shoot." 

What  to  us  appears  the  most  peculiar  feature  of 
this  old  bridge  was  not  the  starlings  or  the  noisy 
river,  but  the  covered  way  or  arcade  that  capped 
the  arches  throughout  the  entire  length.  From  end 
to  end,  with  the  exception  of  two  small  openings, 
London  Bridge  was  covered  with  houses  that  inclosed 
and  roofed  a  narrow  street:  dwellings  above  and  shops 
below.  There  were  many  kinds  of  shops,  but  in  the 
time  of  Elizabeth  the  bridge  was  especially  noted  for 
the  manufacture  of  pins,  and  the  fair  dames  of  Lon- 
don often  bargained  among  the  narrow  stalls  above 
the  water  for  this  indispensable  article  of  dress. 

At  the  southern  end  of  the  bridge  was  a  huge 
towered  gate-house  whose  principal  use  in  the  days 
of  Queen  Bess  was  to  afford  a  resting  place  for 
traitors'  heads.  Imagine  the  trait  of  character  that 
prompted  the  people  to  flock  to  an  execution  by  the 
hundred,  in  holiday  attire,  and  afterward  gaze  un- 
shocked  upon  a  score  of  bloody  heads  on  pikes,  grin- 


12  SHAKESPEARE 

ning  ghastly  from  the  battlemented  tower.  About 
midway  on  the  bridge  was  a  handsome  chapel.  Be- 
neath the  last  three  arches  of  the  northern  end  were 
the  pumps  for  forcing  water  to  which  allusion  has 
already  been  made.  At  the  London  approach  was 
another  tower,  almost  in  ruins  by  the  third  quarter 
of  the  century,  and  taken  down  by  the  end. 

Unless  Hentzner  hailed  a  boat  at  the  stairs  of  the 
Bear  tavern  by  the  bridge  foot  with  the  cry  of  North- 
ward ho!  he  must  have  entered  the  city  along  the 
gloomy  bridge.  The  roadway  through  this  structure 
was  scarcely  wider  than  a  single  cart,  and  in  the 
press  one  had  to  exercise  considerable  ingenuity  to 
escape  collision,  the  bridge  being  always  a  busy  thor- 
oughfare. At  two  places  only  were  open  spaces 
where  people  could  stand  for  safety. 

Instead  of  following  the  Dutch  traveler  to  his 
tavern,  let  us  take  a  general  view  of  the  outward 
appearance  of  the  city  in  methodical  order.  The  city, 
as  has  been  said,  was  then  comparatively  small;  it 
was  also  comparatively  open  in  the  manner  of  build- 
ing. For,  though  the  streets  presented  solid  and 
continuous  lines  of  house  fronts,  there  were  gardens 
behind  most  of  them.  In  fact,  many  of  the  city 
blocks  resembled  open  courtyards  occupied  on  the 
four  sides  with  buildings.  There  were  numerous 
churches,  and  about  most  of  them  burying  grounds  of 
considerable  size.  Furthermore,  it  was  but  a  short 
walk  to  the  country  in  any  direction.  Ten  minutes 
was  sufficient  for  a  person  to  reach  the  open  fields 
from  any  part  of  London  afoot.  Hunting  and  hawk- 
ing were  still  common  sports  of  the  neighborhood 
and  were  carried  on  as  near  the  center  of  the  city 


A  GENERAL  VIEW  OF  LONDON         13 

as  the  British  Museum  or  the  Liverpool  Street 
Station. 

Elizabethan  London,  which  in  area  corresponded 
closely  with  the  modern  City,  was  surrounded  by  a 
wall  that  remained  almost  intact  on  three  sides  till 
a  time  long  subsequent  to  that  under  description. 
Even  so  early  as  the  days  of  Fitzstephen  the  river 
side  of  the  wall  had  disappeared,  leaving  no  trace  of 
its  existence  except  in  such  names  as  Dowgate  and 
Billingsgate.  The  course  of  the  Elizabethan  wall  was 
from  the  north  side  of  the  Tower  ditch,  along  the 
Minories  in  a  northwesterly  direction  to  Aldgate; 
then,  curving  west  and  north,  followed  Camomile  and 
Wormwood  Streets  and  London  Wall.  The  angle  of 
the  wall  at  the  northwest  corner  is  still  marked  by  the 
existing  base  of  the  tower  which  stands  in  the  church- 
yard of  St.  Giles,  Cripplegate.  From  this  point  the 
wall  turned  directly  south  along  the  present  Noble 
Street,  west,  crossing  Aldersgate  Street,  and  south- 
west between  St.  Bartholomew's  the  Great  and 
Christ's  Hospital  to  a  point  west  of  Newgate  prison. 
Thence  it  ran  south  to  Ludgate  Hall,  west  to  Lud- 
gate  Circus,  and  south  again  to  the  river. 

The  wall  was  built,  except  for  a  small  portion, 
upon  the  foundation  of  an  earlier  Roman  wall.  The 
more  recent  structure  was  partly  of  rough  stone  and 
partly  of  tile,  and  was  capped  by  a  battlemented  wall 
of  brick  and  stone.  At  short  and  irregular  intervals 
were  small  towers  in  addition  to  the  fortified  gate- 
house. None  of  these  smaller  towers  has  survived, 
nor  is  there  any  accurate  description  of  them.  The 
base  of  one  in  St.  Giles  churchyard  has  been  men- 
tioned and  another  was  discovered  after  a  fire  about 


14  SHAKESPEARE 

a  century  ago.  It  was  two  and  twenty  feet  in  height, 
but  not  complete. 

There  were  several  gates:  the  Tower  postern,  Aid- 
gate,  Bishopsgate,  Moorgate  postern,  Aldersgate, 
Greyfriar's  postern,  Newgate,  and  Ludgate.  These, 
with  the  exceptions  of  the  posterns,  were  huge  tow- 
ered structures,  with,  usually,  a  triple  passage:  one 
for  vehicles,  the  others  for  pedestrians.  The  latter 
were  closed  at  night  by  heavy  doors,  the  former  by 
ponderous  portcullises.  Newgate  and  Ludgate  were 
used  as  prisons,  the  others  often  as  private  dwellings 
for  those  who  guarded  the  gates. 

The  wall  on  the  outer  side  was  bordered  by  a 
ditch  two  hundred  feet  across ;  on  the  west  side,  how- 
ever, the  place  of  the  ditch  was  taken  by  the  Fleet 
River.  Of  old  time  the  ditch  not  only  was  a  defense, 
but  also  supplied  most  of  the  water  and  much  of 
the  fish  used  in  the  city.  In  Elizabethan  times, 
however,  it  had  become  too  filthy  for  such  purposes, 
and  was,  moreover,  encroached  upon  in  many  places, 
filled  up  with  debris,  turned  into  garden  plots,  and 
otherwise  marred  and  displaced,  much  to  the  chagrin 
of  the  old  historian  Stow. 

This  relic  of  mediaeval  life  had  been  of  real  service 
to  the  city  in  the  time  of  Queen  Mary,  and  actually 
formed  an  obstacle  that  turned  to  naught  the  ill- 
starred  rebellion  of  Essex ;  yet,  in  spite  of  these  facts, 
the  wall  was  an  obsolete  and  useless  feature  of  Lon- 
don life.  It  was  no  longer  necessary  as  a  protection, 
and,  in  consequence,  the  city  began  to  spread  beyond 
the  limits  of  its  confines  at  the  beginning  of  the  reign 
of  Elizabeth.  By  the  end,  the  jurisdiction  of  the 
Lord  Mayor  extended  over  the  adjacent  ground  north 


A  GENERAL  VIEW  OF  LONDON         15 

of  the  river  in  every  direction  for  a  distance  varying 
from  one  to  three-fourths  of  a  mile.  All  this  area, 
however,  was  not  wholly  occupied  by  buildings.  On 
the  east,  running  northwest  from  the  Tower,  was  a 
single  row  of  houses  along  the  Minories.  The  same 
was  true  of  much  of  the  north  side  of  the  city;  but 
in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  gates  the  populated 
portion  extended  along  the  high  road  for  some  little 
distance.  There  was,  Stow  tells  us,  a  continuous  line 
of  houses  along  the  river  east  of  the  Tower  for  half 
a  mile  or  more;  and  the  road  from  Bishopsgate  was 
well  occupied  all  the  way  to  Shoreditch  Church,  which 
was  well  outside  the  city  limits.  Northwest  of  the 
city  in  the  vicinity  of  Smithfield,  and  the  church  and 
hospital  of  St.  Bartholomew's,  a  considerable  hamlet 
had  sprung  into  existence.  The  Strand  was  lined 
upon  the  south  side  with  palatial  residences  all  the 
way  to  Westminster,  though  the  mayor's  jurisdiction 
stopped  then,  as  it  does  now,  at  Temple  Bar.  The 
north  side  of  the  Strand  was  built  upon  for  the  first 
time  during  the  reign  of  Elizabeth. 

The  population  of  the  city  of  that  day  cannot  be 
accurately  given;  but  a  fairly  trustworthy  estimate 
can  be  obtained.  The  city  contained  in  all  likelihood 
not  far  from  one  hundred  thousand  people,  with  as 
many  more  in  Westminster,  Southwark,  and  the 
neighboring  suburbs  to  the  north  and  west.  It  is  in- 
teresting to  note  the  foreign  population  at  this  time. 
In  1567  there  were  40  Scots,  428  French,  45  Span- 
iards and  Portuguese,  140  Italians,  2,030  Dutch,  44 
Burgundians,  2  Danes,  and  1  Liegois.  In  1580  there 
were  2,302  Dutch,  1,838  French,  116  Italians,  1,542 
English  born  of  foreign  parents,  and  664  not  specified. 


16  SHAKESPEARE 

The  increase  of  native  population  kept  pace  with 
the  foreign  increase,  a  tendency  the  government  tried 
hard  to  interrupt.  A  proclamation  of  Elizabeth  for- 
bade the  erection  of  any  new  buildings  upon  hitherto 
unoccupied  sites  within  three  miles  of  any  of  the 
city  gates.  The  same  proclamation  forbade  more 
than  one  family  to  live  together  in  the  same  house. 
The  noble  persons  were  fast  removing  their  mansions 
to  new  locations  without  the  walls,  and  the  last- 
mentioned  provision  of  the  above  proclamation  was 
directed  against  the  popular  custom  of  turning  the 
abandoned  mansions  into  tenement  houses,  crowded 
and  filthy  fosterers  of  the  plague.  The  reason  given 
for  this  proclamation  and  some  others  of  a  similar 
nature,  which,  however,  were  frequently  violated,  was 
to  prevent  the  danger  arising  from  disease  and  dis- 
order, both  important  factors  in  the  Elizabethan  life; 
but  there  can  be  but  little  doubt  that  under  the  sur- 
face of  these  building  regulations  lay  a  substantial 
jealousy,  if  not  an  actual  fear,  of  the  rapidly  growing 
wealth  and  power  of  the  city  corporation. 

Within  the  area  bounded  by  the  old  wall  the  city 
was  divided  by  a  few  grand  thoroughfares,  but,  for 
the  most  part,  by  narrow  and  filthy  streets.  They 
were  dark  and  dingy  from  the  projecting  upper  stories 
of  the  gabled  houses  that  shut  out  most  of  the  light, 
and  dirty  under  foot,  while  one  in  passing  was  not  in- 
frequently deluged  with  the  house-maid's  slops  from 
an  upper  window.  Most  of  the  streets  were  poorly 
paved,  or  not  at  all,  with  a  kennel  half  full  of  stagnant 
water  in  the  center.  Sometimes  there  was  no  specially 
prepared  footway ;  often  such  a  convenience  was  little 
more  than   indicated  by   a   low  line   of  posts.      The 


A  GENERAL  VIEW  OF  LONDON         17 

public  streets  were  made  the  dumping  grounds  for 
all  sorts  of  rubbish.  Scalding  Alley  owed  its  name 
to  the  habit  of  scalding  chickens  there  for  sale  in 
the  neighboring  market  of  the  Poultry.  So  little 
was  the  value  of  correct  sanitation  known  that  as 
late  as  1647  the  following  permission  is  recorded  in 
the  official  reports  of  the  Royal  Hospital:  "  No  man 
shall  cast  urine  or  ordure  in  the  streets  afore  the  hour 
of  nine  in  the  night.  Also  he  shall  not  cast  it  out 
but  bring  it  down  and  lay  it  in  the  channel."  It  is 
not  to  be  wondered  at  that  the  people  often  encoun- 
tered the  blue  cross  on  a  doorpost,  the  sign  of  plague, 
or  that  statutes  required  every  householder  to  build 
a  fire  opposite  his  house  three  times  a  week  in  order 
to  purge  the  atmosphere. 

The  houses  that  lined  these  streets  were  of  various 
kinds.  There  were  still  standing  many  of  the  fine 
old  mansions  of  the  nobility  that  retained  the  appear- 
ance, though  no  longer  the  reality,  of  stone  fortifica- 
tions. One  of  the  finest  of  these  remained  almost 
until  yesterday — Crosby  Hall.  The  houses  of  con- 
temporary build  were  usually  of  brick  and  timber, 
eked  out  with  lath  and  plaster,  and  constructed  on  a 
less  pretentious  scale.  The  woodwork  of  the  fronts 
was  often  grotesquely  carved  and  painted,  and  the 
roof  usually  gabled  towards  the  street,  as  is  still  to 
be  seen   in  the  Staple   Inn. 

The  windows  were  generally  composed  of  small 
panes  of  glass  imbedded  in  lead,  and  opening  case- 
ment-wise; while  each  story  of  the  house  projected 
several  feet  beyond  the  line  of  the  story  below.  Often 
a  street  of  fair  width  on  the  ground  showed  but  a 
narrow   sky   line   above,   the   house   fronts   being   so 


18  SHAKESPEARE 

close  together  that  people  could  shake  hands  across 
the  space.  In  addition,  shop-keepers  often  built  pent- 
houses against  their  lower  walls  for  the  display  of 
goods,  thus  encroaching  still  further  upon  the  narrow 
passage. 

One  is  particularly  struck  by  three  details  in  con- 
nection with  the  houses  of  old  London :  ( 1 )  The  num- 
ber of  churches,  to  which  allusion  has  already  been 
made.  (2)  The  frequency  of  taverns.  It  would  be 
useless  to  attempt  to  catalogue  the  city  taverns.  Be- 
sides the  scores  that  are  famous,  there  were  other 
scores  and  scores.  Often  and  often  Stow  finishes  the 
description  of  an  unimportant  street  with  the  words, 
"  containing  many  fair  houses  and  divers  taverns." 
(3)  The  proximity  of  shops  of  the  same  nature. 
Until  quite  recently  Holywell  Street,  Strand,  pre- 
sented an  aspect  typical  of  Elizabethan  London. 
Both  sides  of  the  street  were  lined  with  the  shops 
of  petty  dealers  in  second-hand  books,  one  adjoining 
the  other  throughout  the  whole  length  of  the  street. 
In  Elizabethan  times  this  custom  was  carried  out 
over  the  whole  city.  Thus  the  pin  makers  were  upon 
London  Bridge,  the  apothecaries  in  Bucklesbury,  the 
goldsmiths  in  Cheapside,  etc.  Only  the  ubiquitous 
tavern  possessed  no  local  habitation. 

Then  as  now  the  smaller  streets  were  named  in 
connection  with  their  proximity  to  larger  streets.  As 
there  were  no  numbers  in  use,  each  house  was  indi- 
cated by  a  sign,  and  much  ingenuity  was  required 
to  diversify  them.  These  signs  were  occasionally 
painted  upon  the  house  fronts,  or  carved  in  the  stone- 
work; but  more  commonly  they  hung  out  over  the 
street,  suspended  from  elaborate  wrought-iron  brack- 


A  GENERAL  VIEW  OF  LONDON         19 

ets.  Originally  a  sign  had  indicated  an  individual 
shop-keeper's  trade,  but,  just  as  the  number  of  a 
house  remains  to-day  unchanged  with  change  of  occu- 
pant, so  the  Elizabethan  sign  was  generally  perma- 
nent. Thus  came  about  the  state  of  affairs  that 
Addison  ridicules  in  The  Spectator. 

"  I  would  enjoin  every  shop-keeper  to  make  use 
of  a  sign  that  bears  some  affinity  to  the  wares  in 
which  he  deals.  A  cook  should  not  live  at  the  '  Boot,' 
nor  a  shoemaker  at  '  The  Roasted  Pig,'  and  yet  for 
want  of  this  regulation  I  have  seen  a  goat  set  up 
before  the  door  of  a  perfumer  and  the  French  King's 
head  before  a  sword  cutter's." 

The  streets  of  London  were  poorly  lighted  at  night, 
or  not  at  all.  Various  acts  provided  that  householders 
should  at  regular  intervals  hang  out  lanterns;  but 
these  lanterns  did  little  or  no  good,  for  they  were 
only  horn  boxes  containing  a  dim  candle.  Even  so, 
the  acts  were  seldom  obeyed,  and  one  of  the  common 
street  cries  was  that  of  the  watchman  reminding  a 
delinquent  householder  that  his  lantern  was  not  in 
place. 

The  watchman,  who  was,  too  often,  not  at  all  unlike 
Dogberry  and  his  companions,  went  his  rounds  armed 
with  a  huge  halberd,  and  was  about  as  useless  for  the 
preservation  of  order  as  the  numerous  "  Statutes  for 
Streets,"  which  among  other  things  forbade  persons 
to  cry  out  at  night,  to  blow  a  horn  after  nine  o'clock, 
to  whistle,  to  cause  a  disturbance,  or  to  do  a  thousand 
and  one  other  necessary  acts.  From  time  to  time 
special  attempts  were  made  to  improve  the  efficiency 
of  the  police,  especially  in  regard  to  the  arrest  of 
"  sturdy  beggars,"  the  pest  of  Elizabethan  London. 


20  SHAKESPEARE 

But,  do  what  they  could,  the  fact  remained  that  one 
always  wore  his  side  arms  for  protection,  and  took 
his  life  in  his  hands,  when  he  stirred  abroad  after 
nightfall. 

In  connection  with  the  streets  of  London  one  might 
mention  the  water  supply  of  the  city,  since  so  great 
a  part  of  it  was  drawn  from  the  public  conduits  in 
the  streets.  Till  the  thirteenth  century  London  de- 
pended for  its  water  supply  wholly  upon  the  neigh- 
boring brooks  and  springs  and  upon  the  Thames. 
With  the  growth  of  the  city,  however,  the  smaller 
streams  became  polluted  and,  in  1236,  the  citizens 
were  given  permission  to  convey  water  in  pipes  from 
Tyburn  to  Cheapside.  In  1285  was  commenced  the 
great  lead-lined  cistern  with  a  castellated  structure 
over  it  that  was  known  as  the  Great  Conduit  in  Cheap, 
to  which  the  water  was  conveyed  a  distance  of  three 
and  a  half  miles. 

There  were  in  and  about  London  many  springs  and 
wells  that  were  turned  to  account  in  serving  other  con- 
duits; and  there  was  also  a  system  of  pipes  supplied 
by  a  pump  under  London  Bridge.  Besides  the  con- 
duits in  Cheapside,  the  principal  conduits  throughout 
the  city  were  as  follows:  the  Tun  upon  Cornhill,  the 
conduit  in  Aldermanbury,  the  Standard  in  Fleet 
Street,  the  Standard  without  Cripplegate,  the  con- 
duit in  Gracechurch  Street,  the  conduit  at  Holborn 
Cross,  the  Little  Conduit  at  the  Stocks  Market,  the 
conduit  at  Bishopsgate,  the  conduit  in  London  Wall 
opposite  Coleman  Street,  the  conduit  without  Aldgate, 
the  conduit  in  Lothbury,  and  the  conduit  in  Dow- 
gate. 

An  annual  custom  in  connection  with  the  conduits 


A  GENERAL  VIEW  OF  LONDON         21 

is  thus  described  by  Stow :  "  And  particularly  on  the 
18th  of  September,  1562,  the  Lord  Mayor  and  others 
.  .  .  rid  to  the  conduit  heads  for  to  see  them  after 
the  old  custom  (of  annual  inspection),  and  after 
dinner  they  hunted  the  hare  and  killed  her,  and 
thence  to  dinner  at  the  head  of  the  conduit  .  .  .  and 
after  dinner  they  went  hunting  the  fox." 

The  vehicles  encountered  in  the  streets  were  mostly 
the  carts  of  costermongers,  still  more  clumsy  wagons, 
men  on  horseback,  chairs,  and  coaches.  The  latter, 
however,  were  of  infrequent  use,  having  been  but  re- 
cently introduced.  It  was  considered  so  effeminate 
as  to  be  almost  a  disgrace  for  a  man  to  be  seen  riding 
in  a  coach,  unless  it  were  the  occasion  of  some  civic 
or  royal  ceremony. 

Stow  in  many  places  expresses  his  heartfelt  en- 
thusiasm for  the  city,  such  enthusiasm  as  a  native 
Londoner  born  within  sound  of  Bow  Bells  would  feel. 
Elsewhere,  however,  the  same  Stow  bewails  the  fol- 
lowing state  of  affairs  in  the  streets  of  his  native 
city: 

"  But  now  in  our  time,  instead  of  these  enormities, 
others  are  come  in  place  no  less  meet  to  be  reformed, 
namely  purprestures,  or  encroachments  on  the  high- 
ways, lanes,  and  common  grounds,  in  and  about  this 
city;  whereof  a  learned  gentleman  and  grave  citizen 
hath  not  many  years  since  written  and  exhibited  a 
book  to  the  mayor  and  commonalty;  which  book 
whether  the  same  have  been  read  by  them  and  dili- 
gently considered  upon,  I  know  not,  but  sure  I 
am  nothing  is  reformed  since  concerning  this  mat- 
ter. 

"  Then    the    number    of    cars,    drays,    carts,    and 


22  SHAKESPEARE 

coaches,  more  than  hath  been  accustomed,  the  streets 
and  lanes  being  straightened,  must  needs  be  dan- 
gerous, as  daily  experience  proveth. 

"  The  coachman  rides  behind  the  horse  tails,  lash- 
eth  them,  and  looketh  not  behind  him;  the  drayman 
sitteth  and  sleepeth  on  his  dray,  and  letteth  his  horse 
lead  him  home.  I  know  that,  by  the  good  laws  and 
customs  of  this  city,  shodded  carts  are  forbidden  to 
enter  the  same,  except  upon  reasonable  cause,  as 
service  of  the  prince,  or  such  like,  they  be  tolerated. 
Also  that  the  fore  horse  of  every  carriage  should  be 
led  by  hand;  but  these  good  orders  are  not  observed. 
Of  old  time  coaches  were  not  known  in  this  island, 
but  chariots  or  whirlicotes,  then  so  called,  and  they 
only  used  of  princes  or  great  estates,  such  as  had 
their  footmen  about  them ;  .  .  .  but  now  of  late  years 
the  use  of  coaches,  brought  out  of  Germany,  is  taken 
up,  and  made  so  common,  as  there  is  neither  distinc- 
tion of  time  nor  difference  of  persons  observed;  for 
the  world  runs  on  wheels  with  many  whose  parents 
were  glad  to  go  on  foot." 

The  close  crowding  of  the  city  and  the  timber 
framework  of  the  buildings  gave  rise  to  the  two  great 
dangers  of  the  Elizabethan  city:  fire  and  plague. 
People  are  prone  to  think  of  the  great  plague  which 
Defoe  described  as  the  only  plague  to  which  the 
metropolis  has  been  subjected;  but,  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  this  dread  disease  visited  the  city  about  once 
in  thirty  years.  It  was  not  an  uncommon  happening 
to  have  the  court  moved  inland  because  of  the  danger 
of  infection,  and  it  furnished  the  cause  of  many  of 
the  brief  closures  of  the  theaters  long  before  the 
Puritans  carried  their  way  on  moral  grounds.     Cam- 


A  GENERAL  VIEW  OF  LONDON         23 

den  asserts  that  in  1563  there  were  21,530  deaths 
from  plague  in  London  alone. 

The  streets  of  Elizabethan  London  were  proverbi- 
ally noisy,  not  only  from  the  busy,  jostling  traffic, 
but  also  from  the  innumerable  street  cries  heard  upon 
every  hand.  It  was  the  custom  for  an  apprentice  to 
stand  in  the  door  of  his  master's  shop  and  to  solicit 
trade  of  the  passers-by  with  the  cry  of  "  What  do 
you  lack  ?  "  A  foreigner,  who  was  likely  to  be  ridi- 
culed by  the  common  people  wherever  he  was  met 
in  those  days,  or  any  other  person  who  examined 
articles  without  making  a  purchase,  was  liable  to 
the  sarcastic  chaff  of  the  disappointed  'prentice;  and 
if  the  customer  answered  impudently  he  was  likely 
to  have  the  whole  brotherhood  down  upon  him  with 
their  clubs  in  a  trice.  Sir  Walter  Scott  in  The  For- 
tunes of  Nigel  has  given  an  excellent  picture  of  the 
Elizabethan  shop,  the  rude  behavior  of  the  appren- 
tices, and  a  subsequent  riot. 

In  the  days  of  Elizabeth  they  declare  by  act  of 
common  council  that  in  ancient  times  the  lanes  of  the 
open  city  have  been  used  and  of  right  ought  to  be 
used  as  the  common  highway  only,  and  not  for  huck- 
sters, pedlars,  and  hagglers  to  stand  or  to  sell  their 
wares  in,  and  to  pass  from  street  to  street,  hawking 
and  offering  their  wares.  The  preventive  acts  of 
Elizabeth,  however,  chiefly  illustrate  the  abuses  in 
full  operation  notwithstanding  the  violation  of  the 
law;  hence  we  are  not  surprised  to  find  a  number  of 
forbidden  street  cries  alluded  to  in  the  old  plays, 
among  which  are  the  following:  "  Old  clothes,  any 
old  clothes  " — "  Buy,  sell,  or  exchange,  hats,  caps, 
etc." — "  Any  kitchen  stuffs,  have  ye,  maids  " — (the 


24  SHAKESPEARE 

latter  was  the  cry  of  those  who  collected  refuse  for 
the  manufacture  of  soap  and  candles).  "Ballads, 
Almanacks,"  was  the  frequent  cry  of  the  itinerant 
book-seller.  Heywood,  in  The  Rape  of  Lucrece, 
under  the  head  of  cries  of  Rome,  gives  a  series  of 
amusing  illustrations  of  the  London  cries  of  his  own 
day.  Many  others  are  to  be  found  in  the  second  act 
of  Bartholomew  Fair.  Suffice  it  to  say  here  that  they 
were  of  innumerable  variety,  representing  nearly 
every  trade  imaginable,  and  were  heard  like  a  con- 
stant chorus  in  the  streets. 

The  principal  thoroughfares  of  London  were  as 
follows :  ( 1 )  From  Newgate,  across  the  city  by  Cheap- 
side  to  Aldgate.  (2)  From  Bishopsgate,  south  by 
London  Bridge  to  the  Surrey  Side.  These  were  the 
only  thoroughfares  that  crossed  the  city  completely. 

(3)  From  Ludgate  to  the  Tower  by  way  of  Candle- 
wick  Street,  interrupted,  however,  by  the  necessity  of 
going  through  or  around  the  churchyard  of  St.  Paul's. 

(4)  Thames  Street,  that  ran  parallel  to  the  river  from 
Blackfriars  to  the  Tower. 


CHAPTER  III 
THE  PLAYHOUSES 

As  early  as  the  time  of  Henry  the  Seventh  com- 
panies of  players  constituted  a  part  of  the  households 
of  the  great  noblemen  of  England.  The  players 
were  attached  to  the  musical  part  of  the  establish- 
ment; and  presented  the  morality  plays  and  the  in- 
terludes, the  forerunners  of  the  Elizabethan  drama. 
When  the  services  of  the  players  were  not  needed 
by  the  master  the  actors  were  allowed  to  wander 
about  the  country  at  will.  The  most  adaptable  place 
to  be  found  in  the  rural  districts  for  dramatic  pur- 
poses was  the  interior  of  the  village  tavern.  During 
the  years  just  previous  to  1576  a  small  group  of 
London  taverns  had  become  in  reality  the  theaters 
of  the  day. 

The  English  tavern  of  those  days  contained  a  cen- 
tral quadrangular  courtyard  entered  through  a  large 
doorway  at  one  end.  About  this  court  were  galleries, 
one  above  the  other,  at  the  level  of  each  story.  When 
a  play  was  to  be  performed,  the  actors  would  erect  a 
temporary  platform  upon  trestles  at  the  end  of  the 
court,  and  extending  back  beneath  the  first  gallery. 
From  this  gallery  they  would  hang  draperies  so  as 
to  convert  the  back  part  of  the  platform  and  the 
court  into  a  sort  of  dressing  room.  The  spectators 
of  the  play  stood  about  in  the  open  court,  or  sat  upon 

25 


26  SHAKESPEARE 

stools  placed  in  the  galleries.  As  we  shall  see  in  a 
few  moments,  this  impromptu  arrangement  contains 
all  the  essential  features  of  the  earliest  Elizabethan 
theaters. 

The  principal  London  taverns  thus  used  were  the 
Bull  and  the  Cross  Keys,  both  in  Gracechurch  Street, 
and  the  Bel  Savage  on  Ludgate  Hill.  The  Black- 
friar's  tavern  should  not  be  confused  with  later  the- 
aters of  the  same  name.  There  was  another  Bull  in 
Bishopsgate  Street,  and  one  "  Nigh  Paul's  "  about 
which  nothing  else  is  known.  So,  too,  was  used  the 
Boar's  Head  in  Eastcheap,  the  gathering  place  of 
Falstaff  and  his  merry  companions. 

By  the  end  of  the  third  quarter  of  the  century 
Puritanism  had  taken  a  fair  hold  on  the  people  of 
London.  This  is  no  place  to  describe  in  detail  the 
long  factional  quarrel  which  resulted  in  the  expulsion 
of  the  players  from  the  city.  Suffice  it  to  say  that 
the  long  dispute  culminated  in  an  order  from  the 
town  council  prohibiting  the  performance  of  plays 
within  the  jurisdiction  of  the  Lord  Mayor.  So  the 
actors  set  to  work  at  once  to  build  theaters.  The 
first  two  to  be  built  were  north  of  the  city  wall. 
Soon,  however,  the  Bankside,  on  the  opposite  shore 
of  the  river,  became  more  popular.  It  is  now  alone 
associated  with  the  original  performance  of  most  of 
the  greatest  Elizabethan  plays. 

The  first  playhouse  to  be  built  was  The  Theater, 
erected  in  1576  by  James  Burbage,  once  a  carpenter, 
later  a  play-actor.  Of  the  construction  of  The  The- 
ater practically  nothing  is  known.  No  picture  or 
detailed  description  of  it  is  extant.  It  must,  however, 
have  been  a  ramshackle  affair,  for,  in  regard  to  it, 


THE  PLAYHOUSES  27 

one  of  the  Lord  Mayor's  proclamations  refers  to 
"  the  perils  from  ruins  of  such  weak  buildings."  And 
it  was  subsequently  demolished  quickly  and  with  ease. 
In  December,  1598,  or  January,  1599,  The  Theater 
was  taken  down  and  the  material,  so  far  as  possible, 
used  in  the  construction  of  Shakespeare's  new  play- 
house on  the  Bankside,  the  Globe. 

The  other  theater  north  of  the  city  was  probably 
built  the  same  year — 1576.  It  was  near  at  hand, 
and  from  what  scanty  information  we  have  of  it,  one 
fancies  it  much  like  The  Theater.  Its  name,  the 
Curtain,  does  not  imply  the  use  of  a  curtain  therein. 
The  name  was  derived  from  a  military  fortification, 
a  curtain,  on  whose  site  it  was  built. 

The  Rose,  the  earliest  of  the  Bankside  theaters, 
was  built  by  Henslowe,  probably  before  1592.  It 
was  circular,  whereas  most  of  the  other  Bankside 
theaters  were  hexagonal  or  octagonal.  It  was  also 
a  very  low  building  in  comparison  with  the  others. 
The  flagstaff  rises  from  the  interior,  and  the  usual 
hut  is  lacking.  This  flag  and  hut,  as  we  shall  see, 
are  very  important  details  in  the  construction  of  the 
early  theaters. 

When  The  Theater  north  of  the  city  was  demol- 
ished the  materials  were  carried  across  London  Bridge 
to  Southwark,  where  they  were  incorporated  in  the 
new  Globe.  This  was  in  1599,  in  all  likelihood.  The 
theater  became  the  home  of  Shakespeare's  company. 
Here  he  acted  minor  parts  in  his  own  plays,  and  here 
appeared  for  the  first  time  the  great  series  of  his 
tragedies  from  Julius  Ccesar  to  Coriolanus.  It  served 
as  the  model  of  the  Fortune  to  be  referred  to  later,  so 
little  need  be   said  of   its   construction   here.      It   is 


28  SHAKESPEARE 

sufficient  to  say  that  it  was  a  relatively  tall  building, 
open  to  the  sky,  and  that  it  possessed  a  double- 
gabled  hut  from  which  projected  the  flagstaff.  These 
huts  will  be  spoken  of  later.  They  constitute  one 
of  the  Elizabethan  theatrical  enigmas. 

This  theater  was  burned  to  the  ground  in  1613 
during  a  performance  of  Henry  the  Eighth.  It  was, 
however,  immediately  rebuilt  and  remained  in  exist- 
ence till  1644,  when  it  was  taken  down  to  make  room 
for  a  pile  of  tenements. 

The  original  site  of  the  Bear  Garden  contained  a 
circular  inclosure  for  the  baiting  of  bulls  and  bears 
— hence  its  name.  The  first  bear  ring,  we  know  not 
when,  was  rebuilt  rectangular  in  form.  In  1606  it 
was  again  rebuilt  by  Peter  Street,  who  had  already 
built  the  Globe.  And  in  1613  it  was  again  rebuilt 
in  its  final  form.  For  a  short  time  the  new  theater 
was  known  as  the  Hope,  but  it  soon  returned  to  the 
use  of  its  more  venerable  name. 

Farther  west  was  the  Swan.  Though  one  of  the 
largest  theaters,  it  was  not  long,  and  never  exclusively 
used  for  plays.  Like  the  Eear  Garden,  it  possessed  a 
movable  stage  which  could  be  taken  down  when  the 
interior  was  to  be  used  for  bear-baiting.  Though 
one  of  the  minor  theaters,  it  is  of  great  historical  im- 
portance. This  is  due  to  the  fact  that  a  view  of  the 
interior  which  has  come  down  to  us  is  the  only  con- 
temporary picture  of  the  interior  of  an  Elizabethan 
playhouse  extant. 

In  1599  the  Rose  theater  was  falling  into  decay. 
Again  Peter  Street  was  called  upon  to  build  a  the- 
ater, this  time  the  Fortune,  this  on  the  city  side  of 
the   river,   not   on   the   Bankside.      The  contract    for 


<*" 


Interior  of  the  Swan  Theater 


THE  PLAYHOUSES  29 

building  the  structure  has  been  preserved  and  forms 
the  basis  of  the  graphic  reconstructed  drawing  given 
opposite  page  32.  This  square  theater  was  burned  in 
1621,  and  rebuilt  as  a  round  brick  building. 

The  other  of  the  two  theaters  belonging  to  Shake- 
speare's company  was  called  the  Blackfriars.*  It 
was  on  the  city  side  of  the  river,  and  was  known 
as  a  private  theater,  that  is,  it  was  smaller,  higher- 
priced,  more  select,  and  roofed  over.  This  latter  de- 
tail necessitated  some  kind  of  artificial  lighting  during 
the  performance,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  the 
plays  were  given  in  the  daytime. 

It  was  common  practice  in  those  days  for  the  play- 
ers to  parade  the  streets  of  London  with  music  on 
the  day  of  performance.  As  there  was  then  but  one 
bridge  across  the  river  and  Bankside  on  the  opposite 
side  from  the  city,  persons  on  their  way  to  the  the- 
aters often  made  use  of  the  numberless  small  ferry- 
boats that  plied  upon  the  river.  As  the  playhouses 
were  open  to  the  sky  bad  weather  often  prevented 
a  performance — hence  the  value  of  the  flag  appearing 
in  all  the  early  representations.  This  flag  could  be 
seen  across  the  river  from  the  city  side.  If,  for 
any  reason,  an  advertised  performance  was  aban- 
doned at  the  last  moment,  the  flag  was  lowered.  Thus 
the  would-be  theater-goer  would  be  saved  the  trouble 
of  crossing  the  river  to  a  disappointment. 

General  admission  was  collected  at  the  outer  door. 
The  increased  price  of  the  best  seats  was  collected 

*  Recent  discoveries  have  revealed  the  existence  of  an 
earlier  theater  by  this  name.  A  convenient  account  of  the 
matter  is  to  be  found  in  The  Elizabethan  Playhouse  and 
Other  Studies,  by  W.  J.  Lawrence;  Lippincott,  1912. 


30  SHAKESPEARE 

inside.  Prices,  of  course,  varied  with  the  occasion, 
and  with  the  theater.  Admission  was  sometimes  as 
low  as  a  penny  (about  twenty  cents,  for  money  was 
then  worth  about  ten  times  its  present  value).  A 
good  seat,  however,  frequently  cost  a  shilling,  that 
is,  about  two  dollars  in  our  money.  Prices  for  a  first 
performance  were  usually  double.  The  plays  were 
performed  by  daylight  in  the  afternoon. 

Once  within  the  doorway  of  the  theater  the  spec- 
tator found  himself  within  a  large,  circular  inclosure 
into  which  projected  the  stage.  The  floor  of  the 
central  area,  called  the  "  yard  "  was  the  bare  clay  or 
turf,  and  was  not  furnished  with  seats.  About  the 
yard  were  three  galleries,  one  above  another,  divided 
into  sections  called  "  rooms."  The  lower  rooms  could 
be  reached  by  steps  from  the  yard  as  well  as  from 
a  door  in  the  rear  of  each  room.  The  music  room, 
so  often  referred  to  in  the  old  plays,  was  probably 
one  of  these  rooms  nearest  the  stage.  Later,  how- 
ever, as  structural  improvements  were  introduced, 
the  portion  thus  called  and  reserved  for  the  use  of 
the  musicians  was  in  all  likelihood  a  continuation  on 
either  side  of  the  upper  stage,  which  will  be  described 
later.  The  people  who  occupied  the  yard  were  called 
"  groundlings,"  because  they  stood  on  the  ground. 
They  were  the  commoner  sort  of  tradesmen,  appren- 
tices, and  petty  venders,  loose  women,  pickpockets, 
and  the  like.  The  better  sort  of  quietly  disposed 
people  sat  in  the  rooms.  Respectable  women  some- 
times accompanied  their  husbands  to  the  rooms,  but 
on  such  occasions  they  always  went  masked.  Not 
to  do  so  was  a  sign  of  loose  morals. 

The  stage  projected  into  the  yard,  was  rectangular, 


THE  PLAYHOUSES  31 

and  occupied  about  one-fourth  of  the  area.  In  the 
earlier  theaters  the  stage  was  an  open  platform  upon 
trestles,  later  it  was  boxed  in,  and  in  one  or  two  of 
the  theaters  it  may  have  been  provided  with  a  railing. 
At  any  rate,  from  its  projecting  position  it  was  open 
to  the  view  of  the  audience  from  three  sides.  This 
necessitated  all  entrances  and  exits  being  made  from 
the  back  or  very  near  it.  The  stage,  however,  was 
not  wholly  given  up  to  the  actors.  It  was  upon  either 
side  of  the  stage  that  the  gallants  placed  their  stools, 
often  arriving  late  for  the  mere  fun  of  making  a 
disturbance.  These  were  the  most  expensive  seats 
in  the  house,  corresponding  in  a  way  to  the  box  seats 
of  to-day. 

The  space  directly  behind  the  stage  was  occupied 
by  a  three-story  structure.  The  stage  doors  opened 
into  the  dressing  rooms  on  the  first  floor.  The  sec- 
ond story  was  like  a  room  with  the  front  wall  re- 
moved, so  that  its  interior  was  visible  to  the  audi- 
ence. It  was  called  the  upper  stage,  or  the  upper 
gallery.  In  it  were  originally  represented  those  parts 
of  the  play  that  were  supposed  to  be  separated  from 
what  was  being  acted  on  the  lower  or  main  stage. 
Before  the  added  improvement  of  a  rear  or  inner 
stage  on  the  ground  floor,  we  should  imagine  the 
Juliet  in  the  famous  balcony  scene  as  appearing  on 
the  upper  stage,  while  Romeo  stood  on  the  stage 
proper.  The  play  before  the  king  and  the  court  in 
Hamlet  was  acted  on  the  upper  stage.  In  the  history 
plays  the  defenders  of  the  city  walls  and  ramparts 
would  appear  on  the  upper  stage,  and  the  besiegers 
on  the  stage  proper  below. 

The  third  story  of  this  rear  structure  was  the  hut 


32  SHAKESPEARE 

that  was  visible  from  the  outside  of  the  building, 
and  whose  use  can  only  be  guessed  at.  It  seems 
almost  too  elaborate  to  have  been  built  merely  to 
shelter  the  bugler  before  he  came  out  to  announce 
the  beginning  of  the  play.  Nor  is  its  erection  justi- 
fied on  the  score  that  it  was  a  mere  support  for  the 
flagstaff.  This  point,  however,  will  be  returned  to 
later. 

From  a  point  above  the  upper  stage  a  canopy 
projected  forward  sufficiently  to  cover  one-third  or 
one-half  of  the  lower  stage.  It  was  called  the 
"  heaven,"  or  the  "  shadow,"  and  served  partly  as  a 
shelter  for  the  actors  in  inclement  weather. 

All  of  these  chief  structural  points  are  illustrated 
in  the  interior  of  the  Swan,  the  only  contemporary 
picture  of  the  interior  of  an  Elizabethan  theater  that 
has  come  down  to  us. 

What  is  certainly  a  more  trustworthy  guide  to  the 
interior  construction  of  these  theaters  in  the  zenith 
of  their  fame  is  the  drawing  of  the  interior  of  the 
Fortune  opposite  this  page.  It  is  constructed  by 
a  modern  draughtsman  from  all  the  data  obtainable, 
including  the  builder's  contract  for  the  Fortune. 
Note  that  the  space  between  the  stage  and  the  ground 
is  concealed  from  the  sight  of  the  audience.  Such 
a  scene  as  that  of  Hamlet  at  the  grave  of  Ophelia 
could  be  adequately  represented  on  this  stage,  but 
not  on  the  stage  of  the  Swan,  where  the  spectators 
could  see  beneath  the  floor.  Note  the  two  doors,  one 
at  either  side  towards  the  rear  of  the  middle  stage.* 

*  The  portion  of  the  stage  proper  from  the  columns  that 
support  the  shadow  forward  towards  the  audience  is  re- 
ferred to  as  the  front  or  the  outer  stage.    From  this  point 


YARD 


Interior  of  the  Fortune  Theater 


THE  PLAYHOUSES  33 

In  a  moment  reference  will  be  made  to  the  traverse 
curtain.  This  curtain  was  drawn  across  so  as  to  cut 
off  the  rear  stage  from  the  middle  stage.  Probably 
there  was  another  traverse  drawn  between  the  col- 
umns supporting  the  shadow  which  could  be  used  to 
cut  off  the  middle  stage  from  the  outer  stage. 

From  the  same  data  has  been  constructed  the  plan 
shown  opposite  page  34.  Notice  that  when  either  of  the 
traverses  is  drawn  there  is  nothing  to  indicate  any 
division  of  one  stage  from  another.  It  is  all  one 
space,  with  a  slightly  irregular  shape. 

The  cross-section  of  an  Elizabethan  theater 
shown  facing  page  38  is  the  result  of  one  of  those 
attempts  to  incorporate  what  is  known  as  generally 
applicable  into  a  typical  drawing  rather  than  to  make 
a  representation  of  any  particular  theater.  Note  the 
provision  made  for  sub-stage  effects.  Also  notice  that 
scenes  upon  painted  cloths  could  be  let  down  from 
rollers  contained  in  the  triangular  spaces  above  the 
middle  stage.  And  there  is  fairly  presumptive  evi- 
dence that  something  of  the  sort  was  actually  done. 

Now  let  me  describe  the  usual  form  of  stage 
presentation  in  Shakespeare's  time.  After  a  bugler 
had  announced  from  the  hut  by  three  calls  of  the 
bugle  at  intervals  of  a  minute  that  the  play  was  about 
to  begin,  the  prologue  entered.  He  was  dressed  in 
a  black  cloak  and  crowned  with  bay  leaves.  When 
the  prologue  had  finished  his  speech,  which  usually 
contained    an    apology    for  the    stage    effects,   or    an 


in  the  opposite  direction  to  the  wall  of  the  tiring  house  is  re- 
ferred to  as  the  back  or  the  middle  stage.  In  the  center, 
and  beyond  this  towards  the  rear,  was  a  space  yet  to  be  de- 
scribed which  is  referred  to  as  the  rear  or  the  inner  stage. 


34  SHAKESPEARE 

explanation  of  what  was  to  follow,  or  some  other 
matter  in  connection  with  the  play,  he  withdrew,  leav* 
ing  the  stage  to  the  possession  of  the  actors.  The 
place  of  the  scene  was  in  some  cases  indicated  by 
a  placard  or  "  title." 

It  is  known  that  a  title  was  often  hung  out  to 
indicate  the  name  of  the  play.  It  was  the  custom 
then  to  decide,  oftentimes,  at  the  last  moment,  what 
play  was  performed.  Sometimes  the  bill  was  quickly 
changed  at  the  will  of  the  audience.  More  difference 
of  opinion  exists  among  critics  as  to  the  use  of  the 
title  to  represent  the  scene.  In  earlier  times  the 
staging  was  much  cruder  than  in  later  years.  There 
was  what  was  known  as  multiple  staging,  where  one 
part  of  the  stage  represented  one  location,  another 
another,  and  so  on.  In  such  cases  titles  were  proba- 
bly hung  up.  If  the  actor  made  his  exit  through  one 
door  labeled  Rome,  or  entered  through  that  door,  the 
audience  understood  the  scene  as  at  Rome.  But  as 
improvements  in  the  theaters  were  introduced  and 
the  staging  became  more  realistic,  this  practice  be- 
came less  and  less  used.  It  is  probable  that  the  title 
was  used  very  little  in  the  height  of  the  Elizabethan 
age  to  represent  the  location  of  the  scene. 

As  the  play  progressed  the  end  of  the  scene  was 
usually  marked  by  the  clearing  of  the  stage  for  a 
moment,  or  the  drawing  of  one  of  the  traverse  cur- 
tains. The  end  of  the  act  was  frequently  marked  by 
dancing  or  by  music.  In  some  plays  specific  direc- 
tions are  given  in  this  regard.  In  others  there  is  no 
indication  of  the  fact.  The  time  of  duration  of  a  play 
in  those  days  precludes  the  possibility  of  many  or 
long  intermissions.     Some  places  show  that  the  inter- 


Plan  of  the  Fortune  Theater 


THE  PLAYHOUSES  35 

act  music  began  before  the  act  was  quite  finished,  and 
continued  till  after  the  next  act  was  begun,  thus 
minimizing  the  actual  time  of  intermission.  It  is  prob- 
able that  the  Elizabethans  did  not  consider  the  di- 
vision into  acts  as  a  structural  necessity,  and  that 
intermissions  were  introduced  sparingly  for  the  pur- 
pose of  relief  to  the  audience,  or  changing  of  setting: 

At  the  end  of  the  play  was  music  and  a  sort  of 
comic  aftermath  known  as  the  jig.  The  verses  at 
the  end  of  Twelfth  Night  constitute  such  a  jig.  Else- 
where in  the  present  volume  the  last  act  of  the  Mer- 
chant of  Venice  is  explained  as  an  expansion  of  the 
customary  jig.  This  diversion,  we  suppose,  followed 
even  a  serious  tragedy. 

The  Elizabethan  writers  constantly  refer  to  the 
poverty  of  their  stage  effects.  Doubtless  they  spoke 
in  comparison  with  the  costly  machinery  of  the  court 
masks.  At  all  events,  these  statements  seem  to  have 
been  sometimes  taken  a  trifle  too  seriously  by  critics. 
The  Elizabethans  were  certainly  rich  in  properties. 
The  following  are  taken  from  the  numerous  lists 
quoted  by  Fleay  and  others. 

The  castle  for  Lady  Peace  or  Lady  Plenty,  and 
the  prison  in  which  Discord  is  watched  by  Argus; 
frozen  heads;  Turk's  heads;  a  monster  in  which  Ben- 
bow  played;  women's  masker's  hats;  fisher's  masker's 
nets;  spears  for  play  of  Cariclia;  holly  for  Dutton's 
play;  holly  for  forest;  fishermen's  trays;  palmer's 
staff;  vizard  for  ape's  face;  key  and  hailstones  for 
Janus;  altar  for  Theogines;  Andromeda's  picture; 
black  physician's  beard;  palmer's  hair;  two  squirts 
for  Paul's  children;  the  monarch's  gown;  a  basket  to 
hang  Diligence  in  in  the  play  of  Probia,  etc. 


36  SHAKESPEARE 

In  February,  1577,  a  play  was  prepared  for  court 
presentation  in  which  a  "  counterfeit  well "  was  car- 
ried from  the  Bell  in  Gracious  Street.  Artificial 
horses  often  figure  in  the  old  plays;  a  box-tree  is 
used  in  Twelfth  Night;  Slitgut  climbs  into  a  tree  in 
Eastward  Hoe;  Isabella  cuts  down  the  arbor  in  The 
Spanish  Tragedy;  ordnance  was  constantly  shot  off 
in  the  history  plays;  in  Locrine  there  is  a  crocodile 
stung  by  a  snake  and  both  of  them  fall  into  the  water ; 
tents  are  pitched  in  many  of  the  history  plays; 
tables,  chairs,  beds,  boxes,  chests,  piles  of  rock,  etc., 
etc.,  are  frequently  mentioned. 

The  greatest  money  outlay  referred  to  in  the  ex- 
pense accounts  of  Henslowe  is  for  costumes.  The 
clothes  worn  by  the  actors  were  often  magnificent. 
They  were,  however,  Elizabethan  garments.  Cos- 
tuming in  the  modern  sense  of  the  word  was  then 
unknown.  Julius  Caesar  wore  an  Elizabethan  doublet, 
and  alludes  to  it  in  the  lines  of  the  play.  Richard 
the  Third  wore  Elizabethan  armor.  One  of  the  ear- 
liest notices  of  the  actual  use  of  garments  in  accord- 
ance with  correct  historical  setting  relates  to  that  ill- 
starred  performance  of  Henry  the  Eighth  in  which 
the  Globe  Theater  was  burned  to  the  ground. 

Wright,  in  The  Second  Generation  of  Actors,  says 
that  there  were  no  scenes  in  Elizabethan  times,  and 
it  is  impossible  to  disprove  his  assertion  absolutely. 
There  is  reason  to  believe,  however,  that  there  was 
some  scenery  in  the  modern  sense  of  the  word.  There 
are  numerous  passages  in  the  old  plays  where  people 
point  to  and  discuss  certain  things  in  a  way  that 
would  seem  far  more  unreal  if  the  actor  were  point- 
ing to  nothing  in  particular  than  if  the  descriptive 


THE  PLAYHOUSES  37 

passage  were  altogether  left  out.  The  burlesque  in 
A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  performed  by  Bottom 
and  his  companions,  loses  its  point  if  we  imagine 
that  there  was  no  scenery  on  the  Elizabethan  stage 
to  become  the  subject  of  a  burlesque.* 

The  Elizabethans  were  not  shocked  by  certain  sit- 
uations that  would  seem  impossibly  incongruous  to  us ; 
but  this  fact  is  hardly  warrant  for  supposing  that 
they  altogether  lacked  the  sense  of  congruity.  While 
searching  about  for  a  cheap  substitute  for  the  elab-' 
orate  scenery  of  the  court  masks  that  was  so  familiar 
to  the  Elizabethans,  one  is  struck  by  the  mention  of 
painted  cloths  among  their  expense  accounts.  These 
were  the  popular  substitutes  for  tapestry  and  interior 
hangings  of  all  kinds,  decorated  with  pictures,  often 
narrating  whole  stories  by  a  series.  Such  properties 
the  players  had,  for  we  find  them  mentioned  in  their 
lists.  Why  should  they  possess  them  if  they  did  not 
use  them  ?  Why  should  not  many  of  the  passages  that 
so  readily  apply  to  a  visible  scene  have  been  uttered 
with  the  scene  described  actually  present  in  the  form 
of  a  painted  cloth  covering  the  back  of  the  stage? 
The  hut  above  the  upper  stage,  or  stage  gallery,  seems 
to  have  been  too  pretentious  a  structure  to  have  served 
no  other  purpose  than  that  of  a  flagstaff  support,  or 
a  standing  ground  for  the  bugler.  It  may  have  con- 
tained rollers  by  which  the  painted  cloths  were  let 
down.  The  idea  of  elaborate  stage  scenery  was  not 
unknown  to  the  Elizabethans,  though  barred  from  the 
public  stage  by  expense.     Nor  is  it  possible  to  un- 

*  The  full  significance  of  this  fact  in  relation  to  A  Mid- 
summer Night's  Dream  was  first  pointed  out  to  me  by  one 
of  my  students,  Mr.  Russell  Sharp. 


38  SHAKESPEARE 

derstand  the  rapid  development  in  construction  and 
staging  after  the  Restoration  unless  we  imagine  a 
beginning  in  earlier  times.  Such  facts,  at  least,  lend 
probability  to  the  surmise  that  the  Elizabethans  had 
crude  representations  of  scenes  other  than  what  were 
merely  suggested  by  suitable  properties. 

There  was,  we  know,  a  fair-sized  space  closed  off 
at  times  by  a  curtain  which  could  be  drawn  open 
at  will.  This  space  seems  to  have  been  about  ten  by 
twenty-five  feet  and  was  located  at  the  rear  of  the 
stage.  There  was  also  a  middle  space  with  two  doors 
opening  to  it  in  such  a  position  that  exits  and  en- 
trances could  be  managed  independently  of  the  inner 
stage.  This  is  what  we  call  the  middle  stage.  There 
must  have  been  secondary  curtains.  One  was  the 
traverse  used  to  shut  off  the  inner  stage.  The  others 
were  probably  merely  draperies  temporarily  placed 
for  the  occasion  of  need.  Possibly  there  were  side 
curtains  used,  to  be  referred  to  elsewhere. 

The  entrances  to  the  inner  stage  were  from  the 
side.  It  is  possible,  however,  that  this  convenience 
existed  only  in  the  more  up-to-date  theaters.  The 
gallery  was  certainly  in  existence  from  an  early  time, 
and  was  usually  called  the  upper  stage.  This  also 
could  be  cut  off  from  the  view  of  the  audience  by  a 
curtain.  I  am  not  so  sure  that  the  upper  stage  was 
directly  over  the  inner  stage.  Possibly  it  projected 
over  it  slightly,  but  this  is  a  detail  of  minor  impor- 
tance. A  window  in  the  back  part  of  the  inner  stage 
enabled  one  to  look  out  into  space  and  to  suggest  by 
his  words  a  prospect  that  the  audience  could  not  see. 

There  is  fair  presumption  that  windows  existed 
above  the  doors  that  opened  upon  the  lower  stage. 


Cross-section  of  the  Elizabethan  Stage 
(Adapted  from  a  print  by  Brodmeier) 


A.  Loft,  possibly  used  for  D. 

painted  cloths.  E. 

B.  Loft  for  properties  and  F. 

machinery.  G. 

C.  Balcony  Stage.  H. 


Rear  Stage. 
Inner  Stage. 
Outer  Stage. 
Steps  for  Trap,  etc. 
Space  under  Front  Stage. 


From  The  Development  of  Shakespeare  as  a  Dramatist  by 
George  P.  Baker  (The  Macmillan  Company) 


THE  PLAYHOUSES  39 

This  is  an  important  detail  in  staging  such  scenes  as 
the  balcony  scene  in  Romeo  and  Juliet,  as  this  ar- 
rangement would  allow  both  actors  to  stand  sideways 
to  the  audience,  a  much  more  effective  position  than 
that  in  which  one  faced  and  the  other  stood  with  his 
back  to  the  audience. 

Scenes  in  Elizabethan  plays  are  of  two  kinds. 
There  are  those  having  an  indefinite  location,  or,  at 
least,  a  location  which  enables  them  to  be  easily 
staged  without  accessory  properties;  and  also  those 
scenes  that  do  require  the  setting  up  of  various  prop- 
erties and  paraphernalia.  The  former  are  called 
outer  scenes  because  they  were  acted  on  the  outer 
stage  with  no  scenic  accompaniment;  and  the  latter 
inner  scenes  because  they  made  use  of  the  middle  and 
inner  stages  where  the  properties  had  been  set  in 
preparation. 

And  this  is  the  point.  While  an  outer  scene  was 
being  acted  with  the  traverse  curtain  hiding  the  inner 
stage  the  setting  of  the  inner  scene  to  follow  was 
being  put  into  place.  At  the  proper  time  the  traverse 
was  drawn  and  the  scene  acted  on  the  inner  and  outer 
stage  combined.  At  the  end  the  curtains  were  again 
drawn  shut.  While  scene  three  was  being  acted  on 
the  outer  stage  the  setting  of  scene  two  was  being 
taken  away  and  that  of  scene  four  put  in  place.  And 
so  on  alternately.  It  must  not  be  assumed  that  this 
principle  was  followed  with  such  monotonous  regu- 
larity as  is  suggested  by  the  above.  See  the  discus- 
sion of  The  Merchant  of  Venice,  where  it  is  shown 
that  the  same  inner  scene  is  returned  to  again  and 
again  throughout  the  first  three  acts  of  the  play. 

This  conception  of  the  method  of  staging  Eliza- 


40  SHAKESPEARE 

bethan  plays  removes  two  stumbling-blocks  that  have 
hitherto  been  in  the  way.  First,  the  rapidity  with 
which  an  Elizabethan  play  was  performed,  for  we 
know  that  the  duration  of  a  performance  was  scarcely 
longer  than  it  takes  to  pronounce  the  lines,  is  ac- 
counted for.  Second,  the  old  idea  that  everything  in 
the  way  of  change  upon  the  stage  was  performed  in 
plain  sight  of  the  audience  not  only  contradicts  and 
renders  unintelligible  many  of  the  contemporary  stage 
directions  but  also  suggests  intrusions  and  distractions 
necessary  to  the  changing  of  properties  which  would 
have  entirely  upset  the  unity  if  not  the  gravity  of  the 
piece. 

If  I  were  constructing  a  new  picture  of  an  Eliza- 
bethan stage  I  should  attempt  to  include  one  detail 
which,  though  of  great  importance,  has  been  thus  far 
altogether  ignored.  I  refer  to  the  fact  that  part  of 
the  audience  sat  upon  the  stage  itself.  And  this 
detail  is  of  twofold  importance.  Elizabethan  men 
wore  clothes  that  for  variety  of  form  and  brilliancy 
of  color  exceeded  the  fashion  even  of  party  dress 
among  women  of  to-day.  What  hostess  to-day  could 
give  a  ball  and  decorate  her  drawing-room  in  advance 
so  that  the  colors  would  harmonize  with  the  colors 
of  the  gowns  worn  by  her  expected  guests?  Yet  those 
who  have  had  anything  to  do  with  theatrical  affairs 
know  how  necessary  it  is  to  plan  harmoniously  every 
detail  of  the  stage  picture  from  costume  to  drapery, 
and  paper  on  the  wall.  Now  this  possibility  was 
denied  the  Elizabethan  stage  manager,  who  could 
never  estimate  in  advance  the  unknown  quantity  of 
many  gaily-dressed  young  men  on  the  stage  itself  in 
close  proximity  to  the  actors. 


THE  PLAYHOUSES  41 

On  the  other  hand,  this  very  fact  gave  him  one 
splendid  opportunity  denied  the  modern  playwright. 
I  once  saw  The  Merchant  of  Venice  played  in  a  small 
country  town  by  a  troupe  of  barnstormers.  In  the 
great  trial  scene,  impressive  as  it  was  even  under 
such  circumstances,  the  ticket  seller,  two  ushers,  and 
a  village  lad  were  pressed  into  service  to  make  up 
the  unruly  rabble  of  spectators  in  the  court-room. 
At  another  time  I  saw  the  same  play  put  on  the  stage 
by  Sir  Henry  Irving.  In  his  production  a  score  of 
trained  persons,  carefully  costumed  and  drilled  in 
their  parts,  appeared  in  this  scene  with  never  a  line 
to  speak.  I  was  impressed  at  the  time  with  the  rela- 
tive expense  of  this  detail.  This,  however,  is  what 
the  Elizabethan  stage  manager  found  ready  to  hand. 
Actors  and  people  wore  the  same  kind  of  clothes, 
though  they  might  differ  in  cut  and  color.  Nothing 
was  seen  in  the  audience  that  might  not  have  appeared 
on  the  stage.  In  The  Knight  of  the  Burning  Pestle 
a  member  of  the  audience  climbs  upon  the  stage,  and 
it  is  some  time  before  it  becomes  apparent  that  he 
is  in  reality  one  of  the  actors.  If  an  actor  stepped 
suddenly  among  the  spectators  seated  along  the  sides 
of  the  stage  he  could  not  be  distinguished  by  general 
appearance  from  one  who  had  just  risen  to  his 
feet  from  among  the  stage  portion  of  the  audience. 
Thus  the  stage  manager  could  always  count  upon 
merging  his  small  handful  of  actors  on  the  stage  into 
the  larger  group  of  spectators,  also  on  the  stage, 
without  the  least  hint  of  discord,  just  as  the  real 
scenery  of  a  modern  stage  merges  into  the  painted 
perspective  at  the  back. 

And  now  let  us  look  for  a  moment  at  the  character 


42  SHAKESPEARE 

of  the  audience  in  an  Elizabethan  playhouse.  For, 
perhaps,  it  was  largely  due  to  this  unruly  audience 
that  Ben  Jonson  was  put  upon  the  shelf  and  his  rival 
Shakespeare  kept  alive  for  us  to  to-day. 

That  was  a  cruel,  boisterous,  half-savage  age.  The 
people  were  superstitious;  they  believed  ardently  in 
witchcraft,  ghosts,  and  fairies;  many  of  the  sports 
both  of  boys  and  of  men  were  cruel  to  a  degree  with 
which  we  now  have  no  sympathy.  Branding  in  the 
face,  slitting  the  nose,  clipping  the  ears,  even  hang- 
ing, were  penalties  inflicted  for  petty  crimes.  Men 
wore  swords  as  a  habit  and  were  accustomed  to  taking 
the  law  into  their  own  hands.  From  such  a  people 
we  must  expect  noisy  behavior  in  the  playhouse, 
though  they  were,  in  many  respects,  much  more  ap- 
preciative of  the  drama  than  the  modern  audience. 

The  people  who  sat  in  the  rooms  were,  as  a  rule, 
well  enough  inclined.  The  characteristic  scenes  hap- 
pened in  the  yard  and  on  the  margins  of  the  stage. 
The  former,  having  no  seats,  tempted  people  to  move 
about  during  the  performance.  Doubtless  a  person 
bent  on  crossing  the  yard  used  his  arms  and  elbows 
freely,  and  trod  on  people's  toes.  If  the  audience 
was  in  a  good  humor  this  sort  of  behavior  would  pro- 
voke a  general  laugh;  but,  likely  as  not,  there  would 
be  angry  blows,  sometimes  a  general  row. 

During  the  play  venders  of  apples,  cakes,  ale,  to- 
bacco, etc.,  hawked  their  goods  about  the  yard  and 
in  the  galleries.  Sometimes  a  deeply  tragic  part 
would  be  interrupted  by  a  cry  of  "  Pickpocket ! 
Caught !  "  The  play  would  be  stopped  while  the  luck- 
less cutpurse  was  hustled  out  of  the  theater. 

The  gentlemen  on  the  stage  were  little  better.     It 


THE  PLAYHOUSES  43 

was  thought  a  clever  trick  to  come  in  late  enough  to 
interrupt  the  prologue  with  a  lot  of  noise  in  placing 
one's  stool.  Once  in  their  seats  the  gallants  did  not 
scruple  to  bandy  words  with  people  in  the  yard,  flirt 
with  women  in  the  rooms,  or  interrupt  the  players 
during  a  speech.  We  are  told  that  sometimes  these 
gallants  crowded  so  close  upon  the  stage  that  the 
players  came  forward  and  appealed  to  the  audience 
to  know  whether  more  room  was  not  needed  in  which 
to  act.  If  the  play  for  the  day  was  not  liked,  the 
actors  were  pelted  and  hooted  off  the  stage. 

Among  the  numerous  pamphlets  of  Elizabethan 
times,  none  is  so  racy,  so  amusing,  or  so  useful  as 
a  bit  of  social  history  as  The  Gull's  Hornbook.  The 
following  is  taken  from  the  direction  of  a  young  gal- 
lant about  to  go  to  the  theater. 

"Whether  therefore  the  gatherers  of  the  Publique  or 
Private  Play-house  stand  to  receive  the  afternoones  rent, 
let  our  Gallant  (having  paid  it)  presently  advance  him- 
self up  to  the  Throne  of  the  Stage  ...  on  the  very  Rushes 
where  the  Commedy  is  to  daunce,  yea,  and  under  the  state 
of  Cambises  himself  must  our  feathered  Estridge  like  a 
piece  of  Ordnance,  be  planted,  valiantly  (because  impu- 
dently) beating  down  the  mewes  and  hisses  of  the  op- 
posed rascality. 

"By  sitting  on  the  stage,  you  may  (with  small  cost), 
purchase  the  deere  acquaintance  of  the  boyes;  have  a  good 
stoole  for  sixpence;  at  any  time  know  what  particular 
part  any  of  the  infants  present;  get  your  match  lighted, 
examine  the  play  suits,  lace,  and  perhaps  win  wagers  upon 
laying  it  is  copper,  etc. 

"  And  to  conclude,  whether  you  be  a  fool  or  a  Justice 
of  the  peace,  a  Cuckold  or  a  Capten,  a  Lord-Maiors  sonne, 
or  a  dawcock,  a  knave  or  an  under-Sheriff;  of  what  stamp 
soever  you  be,  current  or  counterfeit,  the  stage,  like  time, 
will  bring  you  to  most  perfect  light  and  lay  you  open: 


4*  SHAKESPEARE 

neither  are  you  to  be  hunted  from  thence,  though  the 
Scarecrows  in  the  yard  hoot  at  you,  hiss  at  you,  spit  at 
you,  yea,  throw  dirt  even  in  your  teeth;  'tis  most  gentleman 
like  patience  to  endure  all  this,  and  to  laugh  at  the  silly 
Animals:  but  if  the  Rabble,  with  a  full  throat  cry  away 
with  the  foole,  you  were  worse  than  a  madman  to  tarry 
by  it;  for  the  gentleman  and  the  foole  should  never  sit 
on  the  stage  together.  .   .   . 

"  Present  yourself  not  on  the  Stage  (especially  at  a  new 
play)  untill  the  quaking  prologue  hath  (by  rubbing)  got 
color  into  his  cheeks,  and  is  ready  to  give  the  trumpets 
their  Cue,  that  hees  upon  point  to  enter;  for  then  it  is 
time,  as  though  you  were  one  of  the  properties,  or  that  you 
dropt  out  of  ye  Hangings  to  creep  from  behind  the  Arras, 
with  your  Tripos  or  three  footed  stoole  in  one  hand,  and 
a  teston  mounted  between  a  fore-finger  and  a  thumb  in 
the  other;  for  if  you  should  bestow  your  person  upon  the 
vulgar  when  the  belly  of  the  house  is  but  half  full,  your 
apparell  is  quite  eaten  up,  the  fashion  lost,  and  the  propor- 
tion of  your  body  in  more  danger  to  be  devoured  than  if 
you  were  served  up  in  the  Counter  amongst  the  Powltry; 
avoid  that  as  you  would  the  Bastome.  It  shall  crown  you 
with  rich  commendation  to  laugh  aloud  in  the  middest 
of  the  most  serious  and  saddest  scene  of  the  terriblest 
Tragedy;  and  let  that  clapper  (your  tongue)  be  tost  so 
high,  that  all  the  house  may  ring  of  it.  .  .  .  As  first,  all 
the  eyes  in  the  gallery  will  leave  walking  after  the  Players, 
and  onely  follow  you;  the  simplest  dolt  in  the  house 
snatches  up  your  name,  and  when  he  meets  you  in  the 
streets,  or  that  you  fall  into  his  hands  in  the  middle  of 
a  Watch,  his  word  shall  be  taken  for  you;  heele  cry  Hees 
such  a  gallant,  and  you  passe  .    .    . 

"Before  the  play  begins,  fall  to  cards;  you  may  win 
or  loose  (as  fencers  do  in  a  prize)  and  beat  one-another 
by  confederacie,  yet  share  the  money  when  you  meet  at 
supper;  notwithstanding,  to  gul  the  Raggamufflns  that  stand 
aloofe  gaping  at  you,  throw  the  cards  (having  first  torn 
four  or  five  of  them)  round  the  Stage,  just  upon  the  third 
sound,  as  though  you  had  lost;  it  skills  not  if  the  four 
knaves  ly  on  their  backs,  and  outface  the  Audience;  theres 


THE  PLAYHOUSES  45 

none  such  fools  as  dare  take  exception  at  them,  because, 
ere  the  play  go  off,  better  knaves  than  they  will  fall  into 
the  company. 

"Now,  sir,  if  the  writer  be  a  fellow  that  hath  both 
either  epigrammd  you,  or  hath  had  a  flirt  at  your  mis- 
tress, or  hath  brought  either  your  feather,  or  your  red 
beard,  or  your  little  legs,  &c.  on  the  stage,  you  shall  dis- 
grace him  worse  than  by  tossing  him  in  a  blanket,  or 
giving  him  a  bastinado  in  a  Tavern,  if,  in  the  middle  of 
his  play,  you  rise  with  a  screwd  and  discontented  face 
from  your  stoole  and  be  gone;  no  matter  whether  the 
scenes  be  good  or  no;  the  better  they  are  the  worse  do  you 
distaste  them;  and,  being  on  your  feet,  sneak  not  away 
like  a  coward,  but  salute  all  your  gentle  acquaintance,  that 
are  spread  either  on  the  rushes,  or  on  stooles  about  you, 
and  draw  what  troup  you  can  after  you;  the  Mimicks  are 
beholden  to  you,  for  allowing  them  elbow  roome;  their  poet 
cries,  perhaps,  a  pox  go  with  you,  but  care  not  for  that, 
theres  no  music  without  frets. 

"Marry,  if  either  the  company,  or  the  indisposition  of 
the  weather  bind  you  to  sit  it  out,  my  counsel  is  then  that 
you  turn  plain  Ape,  take  up  a  rush,  and  tickle  the  earnest 
eares  of  your  fellow  gallants,  to  make  other  fooles  fall 
a  laughing;  mew  at  passionate  speeches,  blare  at  merrie, 
find  fault  with  the  musicke,  whew  at  the  childrens  Action, 
whistle  at  the  songs,  and  above  all,  curse  the  sharers.  ..." 

Though  The  Gull's  Hornbook  is  a  comical  satire, 
Dekker  truly  represents  the  time.  Yet  the  Eliza- 
bethan audience  was  not  all  bad.  Their  rudeness  was, 
in  the  main,  good-natured,  not  a  rudeness  due  to 
malice.  Furthermore,  the  Elizabethans  knew  a  good 
play  when  they  saw  it.  Many  a  poor  comedy  that 
satisfies  the  popular  taste  to-day  would  never  have 
got  safely  through  the  first  night  three  hundred  years 
ago.  This  fact  has  much  to  do  with  the  general  ex- 
cellence of  the  Elizabethan  drama.  After  all,  there 
was  manifested  in  the  audience  of  that  day  the  gen- 


46  SHAKESPEARE 

uine  spirit  of  true  sport,  of  every  fellow  for  himself, 
and  give  the  Devil  his  due,  that  has  always  character- 
ized the  English,  whether  of  the  time  of  the  Armada 
or  of  Waterloo. 

So  far  I  have  attempted  to  give  the  generally  ac- 
cepted picture  of  the  Elizabethan  stage.  Let  me  end 
the  chapter  by  reference  to  one  of  the  mooted  points 
about  which  there  are  two  opinions. 

In  the  study  of  Shakespeare's  plays  the  present 
writer  lays  great  stress  upon  two  points  as  con- 
tributive  above  all  others  to  thorough  appreciation: 
1.  A  knowledge  of  the  social  life  and  conditions  of 
the  people  at  the  time  the  plays  were  written.  2.  An 
understanding  of  Elizabethan  staging.  It  is  true  that 
the  effect  of  modern  stagecraft  is  often  ruinous  to 
Shakespeare's  plays.  They  were  written  for  other 
conditions.  The  modern  dress  is  an  awkward  misfit. 
Wherever  possible  or  necessary,  I  have  attempted  in 
the  following  pages  to  suggest  the  Elizabethan  setting. 

This  chapter  has  shown  from  what  scanty  material 
much  of  the  story  of  Elizabethan  staging  has  been 
constructed.  The  question  may  be  put  as  to  some  of 
the  suggestions  contained  in  the  following  pages  as 
to  how  I  know  it  was  done  that  way.  To  be  truthful, 
I  do  not  know.  But  I  bear  the  following  constantly 
in  mind.  We  know  enough  of  the  Elizabethan  court 
masks  to  know  that  stage  scenery  as  elaborate  as  any 
used  to-day  was  then  in  use.  We  know  that  this  was 
debarred  by  expense  from  the  public  stage.  We  also 
know  that  the  Elizabethans  were  extremely  imitative, 
imaginative,  and  ingenious.  We  know  in  general  the 
construction  of  their  playhouses.  We  have  many  lists 
of  their  properties.    Oftentimes  we  can  read  almost  to 


THE  PLAYHOUSES  47 

a  certainty  between  the  lines  that  certain  things  were 
done  upon  the  stage,  though  we  do  not  know  just  how 
they  were  done. 

To  my  mind  the  situation  suggested  by  these  facts 
reduces  itself  almost  to  a  mathematical  problem.  If 
one  of  us  can  easily  invent  such  a  staging  for  an 
Elizabethan  scene  as  any  ingenious  person  could  con- 
struct out  of  what  we  know  they  had  in  those  days, 
is  it  unfair  to  assume  that  the  ingenious  Elizabethans 
did  as  well,  if  not  better  ?  More  likely  better.  They 
were  more  used  than  we  are  to  making  a  little  go  a 
great  way. 

One  point  in  particular  needs  a  note  in  this  con- 
nection. Not  only  do  many  of  the  Shakespeare  scenes 
imply  a  considerable  setting,  but  some  of  them  also 
imply  a  darkened  stage.  Consider  the  last  act  of 
The  Merchant  of  Venice.  Innumerable  allusions  cry 
out  for  a  darkened  stage.  It  may  be  urged  that  the 
stage  was  not  darkened  and  that  these  references  are 
put  in  for  the  sole  purpose  of  suggesting  night.  In 
many  cases  this  situation  is  doubtless  true.  But  is  it 
true  here?  My  own  feeling  is  that  the  number  of 
references  is  so  large  that  all  value  as  suggestion  on 
a  light  stage  would  be  lost  through  overdoing.  Fur- 
thermore, some  of  the  points,  such  as  the  failure  of 
one  person  to  see  or  recognize  another  when  he  first 
comes  upon  the  stage,  could  be  easily  managed  more 
effectively  in  other  ways  if  the  stage  were  light.  Does 
not  the  fact  that  it  was  not  done  otherwise  imply  that 
the  stage  was  not  light? 

There  appeared  in  the  Century  Magazine  for  De- 
cember, 1911,  an  article  by  Mr.  Corbin.  In  this  he 
calls  attention  to  the  canopy  over  the  stage,  frequently 


48  SHAKESPEARE 

referred  to  as  the  Shadow,  or  the  Heavens.  He  con- 
jectures that  some  canvas  arrangement  could  be 
spread  from  the  shadow  which  would  effectually  close 
the  open  top  of  the  theater,  thus  producing  a  consid- 
erable gloom  upon  the  stage.  I  might  further  cite  a 
phrase  from  Henry  the  Sixth,  "  Hung  be  the  heavens 
with  black,"  to  show  that  arrangements  were  actually 
in  use  for  dropping  hangings  from  the  stage  canopy. 
It  would  be  easy,  by  means  of  a  few  wires  stretched 
across  the  top  of  the  playhouse,  a  roll  of  canvas,  and 
a  bundle  of  rings,  to  sufficiently  darken  the  space 
below  as  it  is  to-day  to  control  by  the  same  means 
the  light  in  a  photographic  studio.  It  is  no  com- 
pliment to  the  Elizabethans  to  assume  that  they  lacked 
the  ingenuity  to  do  so.  (See  the  discussion  of  The 
Merchant  of  Venice  for  a  further  treatment  of  this 
subject.) 


CHAPTER  IV 
QUARTOS  AND  FOLIOS 

Playhouse  owners  in  Shakespeare's  day  consid- 
ered it  unwise  to  publish  plays.  Plays,  however,  got 
into  print  in  spite  of  opposition.  Oftentimes  a  play 
was  so  popular  that  its  publication  would  be  a  profit- 
able venture  to  any  printer  who  could  get  hold  of  a 
copy  of  the  play.  Laws  were  so  loose  and  public 
opinion  so  lax  that  there  was  little  likelihood  of  pun- 
ishment as  the  result  of  publishing  a  play  without 
permission.  On  such  occasions,  actors  and  managers 
guarded  their  written  copies  of  the  plays  zealously. 
If  neither  love  nor  bribery  could  procure  a  copy  for 
the  piratical  publisher,  he  resorted  to  actual  theft  in 
the  open  playhouse.  That  is,  he  would  send  a  man 
to  take  down  the  play  while  it  was  being  acted.  As 
shorthand  writing  was  not  then  developed  to  the  ex- 
tent it  is  to-day  this  process  usually  resulted  in  very 
imperfect  copies. 

On  the  other  hand,  as  plays  were  usually  short- 
lived upon  the  stage,  managers  willingly  resorted  to 
publication  when  the  play  was  no  longer  popular  on 
the  stage.  In  such  cases,  however,  the  publication 
followed  the  original  production  of  the  play  by  sev- 
eral years. 

There  is,  however,  an  interesting  and  unique  ex- 
ception.    Two    quartos    of    Hamlet    appeared    very 

49 


50  SHAKESPEARE 

promptly  after  the  appearance  of  the  play  on  the 
stage,  and  both  before  it  had  in  any  way  lost  its 
popularity.  Various  theories  have  been  advanced  to 
account  for  this  fact.  I  incline  to  believe  that  the  first 
quarto,  which  seems  to  be  a  very  imperfect  copy  of 
the  play  as  we  know  it,  is  the  result  of  a  piratical 
publisher's  theft  in  the  playhouse,  as  described  above. 
And  that  the  second  quarto,  an  excellent  copy,  was 
published  with  the  authority  of  Shakespeare's  com- 
pany in  order  to  protect  itself  against  the  spurious 
first  quarto. 

However,  the  plays  that  in  one  way  or  another 
got  into  print  during  Shakespeare's  lifetime  were  pub- 
lished in  quarto  form.  They  were  thin  pamphlets,  so 
called  because  the  sheet  after  printing  was  folded 
into  four.  The  average  size  of  the  page  was  about 
six  by  nine  inches.  During  Shakespeare's  life  and 
the  intervening  years  before  the  publication  of  the 
Folio  sixteen  plays  were  published  in  quarto  form. 
Some  of  them  appeared  successively  in  several  edi- 
tions.    These  plays  were: 

1594  Titus  Andronicus. 

1597  Richard  II. 

1597  Richard  III. 

1597  Romeo  and  Juliet. 

1598  1  Henry  IV. 

1598  Love's  Labour's  Lost. 

1600  Merchant  of  Venice. 

1600  Henry  V. 

1600  2   Henry  IV. 

1600  Midsummer  Night's  Dream. 

1602  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor. 

1603  Hamlet.    (Mutilated  copy.) 

1604  Hamlet.    (True  copy.) 
1608  King  Lear. 


QUARTOS  AND  FOLIOS  51 

1608  Pericles. 

1609  Troilus  and  Cressida. 
1622   Othello. 

Before  1557  there  was  very  little  supervision  over 
publication.  A  guild  of  publishers,  called  the  Sta- 
tioners' Company,  exercised  practically  no  authority 
over  its  members.  Later  a  law  was  passed  making 
it  illegal  for  any  one  not  a  member  of  the  Stationers' 
Company  to  operate  a  printing  press.  During  the 
greater  part  of  Elizabeth's  reign  no  book  could  be 
printed  till  it  was  licensed  by  the  Stationers'  Company. 
When  permission  was  granted  the  fact  was  entered 
upon  the  company's  register.  Thus  the  Stationers' 
Register  *  affords  many  interesting  details  regarding 
the  early  publication  of  Shakespeare's  plays.  Grad- 
ually the  company  acquired  the  power  and  developed 
the  will  to  protect  the  printers  to  whom  it  licensed 
books.  It  paid,  however,  little  or  no  attention  to  the 
author  or  his  rights.  Though  he  had  some  recourse 
in  the  courts,  the  process  was  so  cumbersome  and 
expensive  that  it  was  seldom  resorted  to.  Thus,  even 
under  the  protection  of  the  Stationers'  Company  the 
publication  of  a  book  fit  for  publication  at  all  was 
merely  a  question  of  the  possession  of  the  manuscript, 
with  or  without  the  author's  permission. 

Shakespeare  retired  from  London  to  Stratford  sev- 
eral years  before  his  death  in  1616.  After  his  death, 
seven  years  elapsed  before  any  one  thought  of  pub- 
lishing a  complete  edition  of  his  plays.  The  work 
was  done,  however,  in  1623.  The  volume  which  then 
appeared  is  known  as  the  First  Folio,  or,  merely,  the 
Folio. 

♦Abbreviated  S.R. 


52  SHAKESPEARE 

The  following  account  of  the  Folio  is  abridged  from 
Mr.  Sidney  Lee's  life  of  the  poet.  In  1623  the  first 
attempt  was  made  to  give  to  the  world  a  complete 
edition  of  Shakespeare's  plays.  Two  fellow-actors 
and  intimate  friends,  John  Heming  and  Henry  Con- 
dell,  were  nominally  responsible  for  the  venture,  but 
a  small  syndicate  of  printers  and  publishers  undertook 
all  pecuniary  responsibility.  The  First  Folio  was 
printed  at  the  press  in  the  Barbican,  which  Jaggard  * 
had  acquired  of  Roberts.  Upon  Blount  *  probably 
fell  the  chief  labor  of  seeing  the  book  through  the 
press.  It  was  in  press  throughout  1623,  and  had  so 
far  advanced  by  November  8  that  on  that  day  Edward 
Blount  and  Isaac  Jaggard  obtained  formal  license 
from  the  Stationers'  Company  to  publish  sixteen  of 
the  hitherto  unprinted  plays  it  was  intended  to  in- 
clude. Four  other  hitherto  unprinted  dramas  for 
which  no  license  was  sought  figured  in  the  volume, 
namely,  1  and  2  Henry  VI,  King  John,  and  The 
Taming  of  the  Shrew;  but  each  of  these  plays  was 
based  by  Shakespeare  on  a  play  of  like  title  which 
had  been  published  at  an  earlier  date,  and  the  absence 
of  a  license  was  probably  due  to  an  ignorant  miscon- 
ception on  the  part  either  of  the  Stationers'  officers 
or  of  the  editors  of  the  volume  as  to  the  true  rela- 
tions subsisting  between  the  old  pieces  and  the  new. 
The  only  play  by  Shakespeare  that  had  been  previ- 
ously published  and  was  not  included  in  the  First 
Folio  was  Pericles. 

The  volume  consisted  of  nearly  one  thousand 
double-column  pages,  and  was  sold  at  a  pound  a  copy. 
From  the  number  of  copies  that  survive  it  may  be 
*  Members  of  the  syndicate  referred  to. 


QUARTOS  AND  FOLIOS  53 

estimated  that  the  edition  numbered  five  hundred. 
On  the  title  page  was  engraved  the  Droeshout  por- 
trait. Commendatory  verses  were  supplied  by  Ben 
Jonson  and  others.  The  dedication  was  addressed  to 
the  brothers  William  Herbert,  Earl  of  Pembroke,  the 
Lord  Chamberlain,  and  Philip  Herbert,  Earl  of  Mont- 
gomery, and  was  signed  by  Shakespeare's  friends  and 
fellow-actors,  Heming  and  Condell. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  the  whole  volume  was 
printed  from  the  acting  versions  in  the  possession  of 
the  manager  of  the  company  with  which  Shakespeare 
had  been  associated.  But  it  is  doubtful  if  any  play 
was  printed  exactly  as  it  came  from  his  pen.  The 
text  of  the  First  Folio  is  often  inferior  to  that  of 
the  pre-existent  quartos. 

The  plays  are  arranged  under  three  heads,  come- 
dies, histories,  and  tragedies,  and  each  division  is 
separately  paged.  As  a  specimen  of  typography  the 
First  Folio  is  not  to  be  commended.  The  misprints 
are  numerous  and  are  especially  conspicuous  in  the 
pagination.  The  sheets  seem  to  have  been  worked  off 
very  slowly,  and  corrections  were  made  while  the 
press  was  working,  so  that  copies  struck  off  later 
differ  from  the  earlier  copies.  One  mark  of  careless- 
ness on  the  part  of  the  compositor  or  of  the  corrector 
for  the  press,  which  is  common  to  all  copies,  is  that 
Troilus  and  Cressida,  though  in  the  body  of  the  book 
it  opens  the  section  of  the  tragedies,  is  not  mentioned 
at  all  in  the  table  of  contents,  and  the  play  is  un- 
paged, except  on  its  second  and  third  pages,  which 
bear  the  numbers  79  and  80. 

The  number  of  surviving  copies  exceeds  one  hun- 
dred and  eighty,  of  which  one-third  are  now  in  Amer- 


54  SHAKESPEARE 

ica.  Only  fourteen  are  in  a  perfect  state,  that  is,  with 
the  portrait  printed  (not  inlaid)  on  the  title  page,  and 
the  fly-leaf  facing  it,  with  all  the  pages  succeeding 
it  intact  and  uninjured.  (The  fly-leaf  contains  Ben 
Jonson's  verses  attesting  the  truthfulness  of  the  por- 
trait.) Of  these,  the  finest  and  cleanest  is  the 
"  Daniel  "  copy  which  belonged  to  the  late  Baroness 
Burdett-Coutts.  It  measures  thirteen  inches  by  eight 
and  a  fourth.  On  March  23,  1907,  the  copy  of  the 
First  Folio  formerly  in  the  library  of  the  late  Fred- 
erick Locker-Lampson  fetched  at  Sotheby's  £3,600 
(about  $18,000).  This  is  the  largest  sum  yet  realized 
at  public  auction. 

The  second,  third,  and  fourth  folios,  usually  re- 
ferred to  by  the  abbreviations,  F2,  F3,  F4,  appeared 
in  1632,  1663,  1685.  To  all  intents  and  purposes 
each  of  these  folios  is  a  reprint  of  the  preceding. 

An  accurate  reprint,  though  not  a  facsimile,  of  the 
First  Folio  has  recently  been  issued  by  Crowell 
and  Co. 


CHAPTER  V 
SHAKESPEARE'S  VERSE 

Mr.  Dowden  says  that  the  highest  passion  of  all 
finds  its  expression  in  prose.  This  assertion  seems 
at  first  sight  to  be  in  accordance  with  our  ideas. 
Prose  seems  to  be  more  the  language  of  nature  than 
verse.  Mr.  Dowden  cites  some  of  the  speeches  of 
King  Lear  as  illustrative.  Is  the  illustration,  how- 
ever, quite  apt?  If  tested  by  Shakespeare's  other 
plays  the  situation  does  not  seem  to  fit.  Some  of  the 
most  intense  moments  of  passion  are  phrased  in  verse. 
Note  the  words  of  Hamlet,  "  Absent  thee  from  felicity 
awhile,"  etc.  This  fact  is  true  even  in  King  Lear. 
Prose  is  used  in  parts  of  King  Lear  because  the  king 
is  going  mad.  His  thoughts  are  incoherent.  The  very 
essence  of  verse  is  coherence,  therefore  it  is  out  of  har- 
mony with  such  a  situation.  Shakespeare,  almost  of 
necessity,  depended  sometimes  upon  prose,  and  not 
always  prose  of  the  most  orderly  sort. 

Some  characters  in  the  plays  are  essentially  un- 
poetic  and  are  made  to  speak  prose;  yet  Enobarbus, 
the  blunt-spoken  common  soldier  in  Antony  and  Cleo- 
patra, recites  that  most  wonderful  description  of  Cleo- 
patra in  her  barge. 

Frequently  Shakespeare  desired  to  imitate  the  lan- 
guage of  ordinary  conversation,  and  made  use  of 
prose.     On  the   other  hand,  there  are   passages   in 

55 


56  SHAKESPEARE 

which  he  accomplishes  the  same  task  in  verse  with 
no  diminution  in  the  naturalness  of  effect. 

Sometimes  the  poet  seems  to  make  use  of  prose 
for  no  other  purpose  than  to  emphasize  the  contrast 
with  other  passages  spoken  in  verse :  as  where  Hamlet 
describes  the  make-up  of  the  human  frame. 

The  fact  of  the  matter  seems  to  be  that  no  rule 
is  discoverable  which  uniformly  applies  to  when 
Shakespeare  did  or  did  not  use  prose  or  verse.  My 
belief  is  that  he  used  one  form  or  the  other  as  the 
spirit  moved  him,  that  is,  intuitively,  in  whichever 
form  his  thoughts  naturally  expressed  themselves,  and 
that  no  rule  or  method  of  procedure  occurred  to  him 
in  advance.  He  was  inspired  by  momentary  prefer- 
ence and  intuition. 

Much  has  been  written  concerning  the  form  and 
quality  of  Shakespeare's  verse.  Blank  verse  was  then 
in  its  infancy,  not  yet  having  been  fully  reduced  to 
rule.  To  the  student  of  metrics  the  whole  subject 
presents  a  wealth  of  exceptions  that  may  well  occupy 
such  an  one's  attention  to  the  exclusion  of  more  im- 
portant matters.  To  the  student  who  is  interested  in 
the  actual  plays,  rather  than  in  the  study  of  meter 
for  its  own  sake,  the  subject  is  not  so  intricate.  In 
fact,  for  our  present  purpose,  it  may  be  reduced  to 
a  few  simple  statements. 

Shakespeare  wrote  at  a  time  when  blank  verse  was 
comparatively  new  in  English  poetry.  It  had  not 
been  practised  and  pruned  to  the  extent  we  find  it 
in  Tennyson.  Then,  too,  Shakespeare  wrote  blank 
verse  for  people  to  speak,  for  actors  who  took  all 
sorts  of  liberties  with  pronunciation,  and  who  were 
able  and  often  found  the  opportunity  to  fill  up  a  gap 


SHAKESPEARE'S  VERSE  57 

with  a  significant  gesture.  Hence  we  may  expect 
to  find  it  composed  very  loosely. 

The  normal  line  of  Shakespeare's  blank  verse  con- 
sists of  five  iambic  feet.  The  lines  are  unrhymed. 
The  end  of  a  line  corresponds  with  a  pause  in  the 
sense.  Lines  differing  from  this  normal  type  are, 
however,  almost  as  frequent  as  lines  composed  strictly 
in  accordance  with  it. 

The  principal  variations  are  as  follows:  In  early 
plays  many  lines  are  rhymed.  We  find  that  the  com- 
parative number  of  rhymed  lines  steadily  decreases 
as  we  follow  the  list  of  plays  in  chronological  order. 
In  the  early  plays  we  find  much  doggerel  and  many 
stanzas.  This  practice  also  decreased  as  Shakespeare 
grew  older,  though  songs  are  introduced  into  the 
plays  till  the  very  end.  Lines  shorter  and  longer  than 
five  feet  often  occur,  the  latter  more  frequently  when 
a  line  is  divided  between  two  speakers.  Lines  in 
which  there  is  no  sense  pause  at  the  end  frequently 
occur.  They  are  called  '*  run-on "  lines  to  distin- 
guish them  from  "  end-stopped  "  lines.  Run-on  lines 
occur  more  frequently  in  the  later  plays. 

There  are  still  other  frequent  variations.  The 
iambic  foot  consists  of  two  syllables,  the  first  unac- 
cented, the  second  accented.  The  order  of  accent  may 
be  reversed  in  any  foot,  sometimes  in  two  or  more 
feet  of  the  same  line.  An  unaccented  syllable  may 
be  added  to  any  foot,  more  frequently  at  the  end  of 
the  line.  Such  extra  syllables  are  much  slighted  in 
pronunciation.  After  a  pause  an  unaccented  syllable 
is  often  dropped.  One  should  frequently  imagine  such 
a  gap  accompanied  on  the  stage  by  a  pause  just  long 
enough  to  enable  the  actor  to  continue  the  original 


58  SHAKESPEARE 

rhythm  when  he  resumes  his  speech.  Occasionally  the 
purpose  of  such  a  break  is  to  produce  an  intentional 
jar.  Sometimes  lines  of  an  altogether  different  form 
are  introduced  for  the  sake  of  variety. 

Scansion  of  Shakespeare's  verse  is  often  facilitated 
by  a  knowledge  of  Elizabethan  pronunciation.  Space 
can  be  afforded  here  for  only  a  few  references  to  the 
more  important  details  of  this  subject. 

Contractions,  such  as  th*  for  the,  and  expansions, 
such  as  i-on  for  ion,  are  not  necessarily  indicated  in  the 
text.  Where  they  are  not  indicated  they  must  be  sup- 
plied by  the  reader's  sense  of  rhythm.  The  more 
important  rules  of  pronunciation  are: 

The  loss  of  an  unaccented  syllable  before  a  con- 
sonant is  common. 

'gainst  =  against, 
'venge  =  avenge. 

Sometimes  a  prefix  beginning  with  a  consonant  is 
thus  lost. 

'fore  as  be  fore. 

An  initial  vowel  is  often  dropped  and  the  consonant 
combined  with  the  preceding  word. 

what 's  —  what  is. 
they  're  =  they  are. 

Such  combinations  as  the  following  are  common: 

I'vez=I  have. 
he  'th  =  he  hath. 

let 's  =  let  us. 
before 's  =  before  us. 
defy  's  s=  defy  us. 
'tis  =  it  is. 
is't=:is  it. 


SHAKESPEARE'S  VERSE  59 

Most  of  the  above  contractions  are  still  in  frequent 
use;  but  in  Shakespeare's  plays  we  must  often  intro- 
duce them  even  when  not  indicated  in  the  printed 
text. 

The  final  letter  is  often  omitted. 

i'  the  as  in  the. 
th'lad  =  the  lad. 
o'  me  as  oh,  me. 

Many  words  of  several  syllables  are  contracted  by 
elision. 

prison  —  prisn. 
perilous  =  perlous. 
heartily  =  heartly. 
opening  =  opning. 
prisoner  —  prisner. 
reckoning  —  reckning. 
Antony  =  Antny. 
ordinance  —  ordnance, 
desperate  ==  desprate. 
temporal  —  tempral. 
general  ±a  genral. 

Words  containing  v  and  th  are  often  slighted  in 
pronunciation,  thus: 

devil  — del  or  de'il. 
evil  =  eil. 
ever  =  ere. 
even  —  ene. 
whether  -5  where, 
whither  =  whire. 
hither  —  here, 
thither  =  thire. 

On  the  other  hand,  words  were  often  expanded  in 
pronunciation. 


60  SHAKESPEARE 

marriage  =  marri-age. 
celestial  =  celesti-al. 
Christian  =  Christi-an. 
valiant  =  vali-ant. 
familiar  —  f  amil-i-ar. 
conscience  as  consci-ence. 
suspicion  =  suspici-on. 
chariot  as  chari-ot. 
gracious  —  graci-ous. 
determined  =  determin-ed. 

The  word  spirit  when  pronounced  sprite  retained 
all  the  dignity  of  the  former  word,  and  was  synony- 
mous with  it.  Hamlet  speaks  of  his  father's  ghost 
as  a  sprite.  The  rhythm  will  guide  the  reader  to 
a  one-  or  two-syllable  pronunciation,  whether  the  word 
be  spelled  in  the  text  spirit,  sprite,  or  spright. 

This  is  is  frequently  contracted  into  this.  And 
there  are  many  other  similar  words  and  phrases.  But 
enough  are  cited  for  the  purpose  of  illustration. 

Many  words  are  accented  differently:  access', 
authorized,  aspect',  com'plete,  cano'nized,  envy', 
pio'neer,  portents',  perse'vere,  perse'verence,  rheu'- 
matic.  Most  of  these  words  are  also  found  with  their 
present  pronunciation. 

Words  like  fire,  dear,  hour,  were  frequently  dwelled 
upon  sufficiently  to  make  them  count  for  two  syllables. 
The  rolling  of  the  r  was  a  characteristic  detail  of 
Elizabethan  speech. 

In  closing  this  brief  note  on  the  subject  of  meter 
I  should  call  attention  to  the  fact  that  not  every  line 
of  verse  in  Shakespeare  can  be  satisfactorily  scanned 
with  any  degree  of  regularity.  In  many  cases  this 
fact  is  probably  due  to  the  corrupt  state  of  the 
text. 


SHAKESPEARE'S  VERSE  61 

The  whole  subject  is  well  summarized  thus  by  Mr. 
Manly : 

"  In  reading  Shakespeare,  slurs,  elisions,  resolutions,  and 
contractions  occur  and  must  be  reckoned  with.  But  they 
are  always  found  to  be  such  as  harmonize  with  the  proper 
recitation  of  the  lines  and  not  mere  artificial  products  of 
forcing  the  rhythm  into  a  system."    (Intro.  Macbeth,  xxxiv.) 


CHAPTER  VI 
CHRONOLOGICAL  LIST  OF  PLAYS 

It  has  not  been  easy  to  determine  the  dates  of 
Shakespeare's  plays.  In  fact,  there  is  general  agree- 
ment as  to  the  dates  of  each  play  within  a  limit  of 
one  or  two  years  in  most  cases.  Different  critics,  how- 
ever, disagree  oftentimes  as  to  the  exact  date  to 
which  this  or  that  play  is  to  be  assigned. 

The  date  of  a  play  is  an  inference  based  upon  many 
facts.  The  evidence  of  early  or  late  style  is  taken 
into  consideration.  The  dates  contained  in  the  Sta- 
tioners' Register  are  often  important.  So  are  the 
dates  of  the  quartos.  Sometimes  a  play  refers  to 
known  historical  facts,  to  other  books  whose  dates 
of  publication  are  known,  or  quotes  from  another  play 
whose  date  of  composition  is  established.  This  kind 
of  internal  evidence  implies  a  date  after  which  the 
play  cannot  have  been  written.  Some  other  piece  of 
writing  may  refer  to  the  play  itself.  If  the  date  of 
this  piece  of  writing  is  known  it  sets  a  date  before 
which  the  play  must  have  been  written.  This  is 
known  as  external  evidence.  The  sifting  of  all  such 
evidence  has  led  to  the  present  chronology. 

The  introductions  to  the  Tudor  Edition  of  the  plays 
recite  the  evidence  of  the  dates  there  assigned,  which 
have  been  quoted  in  the  following  list: 

1590-91        1  Henry  VI. 
1591-92        2  Henry  VI. 

62 


CHRONOLOGICAL  LIST  OF  PLAYS      63 


1592  3  Henry  VI. 

1592-96  Richard  III. 

1594-95  King  John. 

1595-96  Richard  II. 

1597  1  Henry  IV. 

1597-98  2  Henry  IV. 

1599  Henry  V. 

1613  Henry  VIII. 

1591  Love's  Labour's  Lost. 

1591  The  Comedy  of  Errors. 

1592  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona. 
1594-95  Midsummer  Night's  Dream. 
1594-97  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew. 
1596-97  The  Merchant  of  Venice. 
1598-1601  All's  Well  That  Ends  Well. 
1599-1600  As  You  Like  It. 

1599  Much  Ado  About  Nothing. 

1599-1600  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor. 

1601  Twelfth  Night. 

1601-02  Troilus  and  Cressida. 

1603-04  Measure  for  Measure. 

1607-08  Pericles. 

1609-10  Cymbeline. 

1610-11  The  Winter's  Tale. 

1610-11  The  Tempest. 

1594  Titus  Andronicus. 

1594-95  Romeo  and  Juliet. 

1599  Julius  Caesar. 

1602-04  Hamlet. 

1604  Othello. 

1606  King  Lear. 

1606  Macbeth. 

1606-08  Timon  of  Athens. 

1607-08  Antony  and  Cleopatra. 

1608-10  Coriolanus. 


CHAPTER  VII 
DRAMATIC  STRUCTURE 

Every  one  who  reads  a  play  realizes  that  much  of 
the  effect  produced  depends  upon  the  local  color,  the 
words  and  phrases  used,  scenery  and  properties,  sug- 
gestions, bits  of  foreshadowing,  cross-references,  etc. 
All  such  details,  however,  are  manufactured  by  the 
playwright  late  in  the  process  of  constructing  a  play. 
They  are,  figuratively  speaking,  scattered  over  or 
hung  upon  the  skeleton  of  the  play.  A  description 
of  what  is  meant  by  this  skeleton  involves  the  subject 
of  dramatic  structure.  In  other  words,  the  structure 
of  a  drama  may  be  compared  to  the  framework  of  a 
building  on  which  are  engrafted  the  decorations. 

There  are  differences  in  this  framework  according 
as  the  play  is  of  one  type  or  another.  Let  us  post- 
pone the  consideration  of  such  differences  for  the 
present  and  consider  as  the  type  a  play  which  is  to 
be  taken  seriously.  Such  a  play  need  not  necessarily 
be  a  tragedy,  though  hardly  an  out-and-out  farce. 

It  is  necessary,  however,  first  to  consider  a  few 
general  details. 

What  is  meant  by  dramatic?  A  drama  is  a  story. 
The  essence  of  the  drama  is  action — but  all  action 
is  not  dramatic.  Action  is  dramatic  only  when  it 
leads  to  more  action.  Yet  this  action  need  not  be 
physical  action.     It  may  be  mental.     Thus  an  argu- 

64 


DRAMATIC  STRUCTURE  65 

merit  which  leads  to  physical  action  is  dramatic,  as 
Antony's  oration  over  Caesar's  body.  Or,  a  discussion 
that  changes  the  ideas  of  persons  in  the  play  and  thus 
leads  them  to  action  is  essentially  dramatic,  as  the 
soliloquy  of  Lady  Macbeth  after  reading  her  hus- 
band's letter.  Pure  passion,  even  inaction,  may  be 
dramatic  if  it  is  made  the  means  of  leading  to  more 
action. 

A  drama  should  contain  a  dominant  idea.  Because 
one  cannot  lay  aside  a  drama  as  one  can  a  novel,  but 
must  listen  to  the  end  at  one  sitting,  the  play  must 
be  a  unit.  That  is,  there  must  be  some  one  thing 
that  is  begun,  carried  on,  and  brought  to  a  conclusion 
during  the  performance.  This  is  usually  called  the 
idea. 

Think  of  the  novels  you  have  read.  Can  you  sum 
up  each  one  in  a  single  sentence?  The  Prisoner  of 
Zenda — yes;  Vanity  Fair — no.  A  good  drama  can 
be  thus  summed  up.  It  has  a  well-defined  theme, 
a  topic  sentence,  so  to  speak.  Thus  in  Macbeth:  the 
conflict  between  Macbeth  and  fate  in  the  person  of 
Macduff  in  which  the  character  of  the  former  is  grad- 
ually depraved  till  it  leads  to  his  downfall.  In  Rich- 
ard the  Second:  the  overthrow  of  a  weak,  wicked 
monarch  by  one  whose  opposite  characteristics  better 
fit  him  to  rule  as  king. 

It  is  also  well  to  remember  that  many  rules  of 
dramatic  technique  depend  upon  the  mechanical  and 
physical  conditions  under  which  the  play  is  produced. 
Many  structural  differences  between  the  Elizabethan 
plays  and  the  plays  of  to-day  are  due  to  architectural 
differences  between  the  old  and  the  new  theaters. 
The  rapidity  of  performance  allows  the  audience  no 


66  SHAKESPEARE 

time  to  stop  and  think,  hence  omissions,  contradictions, 
etc.,  may  be  tolerated  in  a  play  that  would  be  alto- 
gether out  of  place  in  a  novel.  This  rapidity  of 
performance  prevents  one  from  weighing  details  too 
critically;  it  enables  the  dramatist  to  juggle  with  the 
feelings  of  his  audience  in  a  way  utterly  impossible 
under  other  conditions.  The  tiring  of  the  audience 
physically,  mentally,  and  emotionally  accounts  for  the 
requirement  of  greater  brevity  and  more  rapid  action 
as  the  end  of  the  play  approaches.  And  as  the  audi- 
ence wishes  to  leave  the  playhouse  fully  satisfied, 
every  question  raised  by  the  play  must  be  disposed 
of  before  the  curtain  falls. 

We  have  suggested  what  sort  of  material  is  essen- 
tially dramatic.  A  mere  mass  of  dramatic  material, 
however,  does  not  constitute  a  dramatic  story.  The 
story  of  a  drama  differs  in  one  important  detail  from 
what  may  be  a  good  story  for  a  novel.  A  dramatic 
story  must  have  a  beginning  and  an  end. 

As  these  words  are  used  with  a  technical  signifi- 
cance, it  is  necessary  to  explain  them.  Recall  for  a 
moment  the  story  of  Vanity  Fair.  Is  there  any  par- 
ticular reason  for  beginning  the  story  at  the  point 
where  Thackeray  takes  it  up?  There  is  none.  The 
story  could  just  as  well  have  been  begun  later;  or, 
had  Thackeray  so  wished,  he  could  have  begun  a 
volume  earlier.  So,  too,  the  story  could  have  been 
ended  sooner,  might  possibly  have  been  thereby  im- 
proved. Also,  as  affairs  are  at  the  end  of  the  volume, 
it  would  be  possible  to  go  right  on  with  many  more 
events.  In  other  words,  as  we  look  back  over  the 
history  of  Becky  Sharp  we  find  no  part  of  it  cut  out 
as  a  single  piece,  standing  alone,  for  treatment  here. 


DRAMATIC  STRUCTURE  67 

This  story  is  without  beginning  or  end  in  the  dra- 
matic sense. 

Consider,  by  way  of  contrast,  the  story  of  Hamlet's 
life,  both  as  we  have  it  in  the  play  and  as  we  have 
it  pieced  out  by  our  fancy.  As  our  imagination  roams 
over  his  whole  life  we  suddenly  pause  at  one  signifi- 
cant event,  the  supernatural  revelation  of  a  crime. 
This  event  begins  a  new  era  in  Hamlet's  life.  The 
results  of  it  bring  new  forces  into  play.  Then  they 
play  themselves  out.  When  this  is  done  there  is 
nothing  left  to  write  about.  The  early  history  of 
Hamlet  could  not  be  incorporated  into  the  play  with- 
out becoming  an  unnecessary  drag.  Nor  can  one  con- 
ceive a  sequel  to  Hamlet.  It  is  this  sharply  defined 
initial  occurrence,  and  the  equally  sharp  finality  of 
the  conclusion  that  constitute  in  the  dramatic  sense  the 
beginning  and  the  end.  Thus,  every  good  dramatic 
story  is  capable  of  being  isolated  from  its  chrono- 
logical surroundings  as  a  whole — that  is,  it  has  a  be- 
ginning and  an  end.  And  both,  so  to  speak,  are 
final. 

Furthermore,  every  dramatic  story  involves  a  strug- 
gle. Sometimes  it  is  a  struggle  between  ideas;  but 
more  frequently  between  two  people  or  between  two 
groups  of  people.  At  any  rate,  the  idea  of  a  struggle 
is  always  present.  And  the  presentation  of  this  strug- 
gle on  the  stage  follows  a  regular  course.  The  reader 
must  be  sufficiently  informed  in  regard  to  prelim- 
inary events  to  understand  what  follows  (the  intro- 
duction). Then  comes  the  initial  event,  the  begin- 
ning, out  of  which  the  story  grows  (the  exciting 
force).  One  element  of  the  struggle  involved  grad- 
ually rises  into  prominent  significance  (the  rising  ac- 


68  SHAKESPEARE 

tion)  till  it  reaches  (the  turning-point),  the  place 
where  it  begins  to  find  the  other  element  of  the  strug- 
gle too  strong  to  be  withstood.  While  the  balance  of 
power  swings  the  other  way  (the  falling  action)  we 
approach  the  end  of  the  play,  the  technical  end  re- 
ferred to  above  (the  catastrophe). 

Before  calling  attention  to  some  of  the  minor  de- 
tails concerning  the  presentation  of  this  arrangement, 
it  is  necessary  to  dwell  for  a  moment  longer  on  the 
technical  terms  contained  above  in  parentheses. 

The  peculiar  nature  of  dramatic  production  entails 
a  certain  way  of  opening  the  narrative.  It  should  be 
remembered  that  the  audience  has  no  control  over  the 
speed  of  production.  If,  in  reading  a  novel,  one  be- 
comes confused,  one  can  pause,  re-read,  turn  back, 
or  ponder  as  deliberately  as  one  wishes.  This  oppor- 
tunity, however,  is  denied  the  playgoer.  The  pres- 
entation of  the  play  goes  right  on  without  interruption. 
If  the  audience  is  confused,  there  is  no  time  to  stop 
and  straighten  matters  out.  Hence,  one  of  the  abso- 
lute requirements  of  dramatic  story-telling  is  perfect 
clearness  from  start  to  finish. 

This  requirement  implies  an  introduction.  The 
dramatist  cannot  plunge  into  the  middle  of  his  story. 
He  must  begin  at  the  beginning,  in  fact,  a  little  before 
the  beginning.  No  matter  how  sharply  defined  the 
technical  beginning  of  the  play,  its  full  comprehen- 
sion presupposes  something.  Some  details  must  be 
known  which  lead  up  to  and  account  for  it.  Further- 
more, the  audience  must  become  acquainted  with  the 
principal  characters,  and  know  something  of  their 
personalities  as  well  as  of  their  relations  to  each  other. 
And  the  story  will  be  much  more  effectively  received 


DRAMATIC  STRUCTURE  69 

if  the  audience  is  put  in  the  proper  mood,  acquainted 
from  the  start  with  the  keynote  of  what  is  to  follow. 

It  is  the  purpose  of  the  introduction  to  furnish  all 
this  material  in  the  briefest  possible  space  consistent 
with  clearness  and  completeness. 

Then  comes  the  exciting  force.  This  is  the  tech- 
nical beginning  spoken  of  above,  the  initial  event  that 
sets  things  going.  It  must  stand  out  prominently,  be 
of  sufficient  importance  of  itself,  and  the  following 
events  should  grow  out  of  it  in  accordance  with  the 
law  of  cause  and  effect.  Every  plot  detail  that  fol- 
lows should  be  traceable  more  or  less  directly  back 
to  this  event.  The  exciting  force  excites  the  quiescent 
conditions  of  the  introduction  into  action. 

The  rising  action  can  be  disposed  of  in  a  few  words. 
It  is  merely  the  logical  development  of  the  story  from 
the  appearance  of  the  exciting  force  to  the  climax  of 
interest  known  as  the  turning-point.  This  scanty  defi- 
nition will  seem  more  sufficient  after  reading  what 
follows  descriptive  of  the  turning-point. 

As  the  phrase  turning-point  suggests,  something  in 
the  drama  turns  at  this  point.  Let  us  see  what  it  is. 
As  has  been  said,  every  dramatic  story  involves  a 
struggle  between  two  forces.  And  this  struggle  is  so 
presented  that  at  first  one  of  the  forces  is  dominant 
and,  throughout  the  rising  action,  seems  mounting  to 
success.  At  the  turning-point,  however,  we  begin  to 
see  that  the  present  success  is  temporary  and  that 
ultimately  the  other  force  will  prevail.  The  turning- 
point,  then,  is  the  place  where  the  success  of  one 
element  of  the  struggle  begins  to  find  itself  powerless 
before  the  ultimate  success  of  the  other  element  of 
the  struggle. 


70  SHAKESPEARE 

In  Hamlet,  for  instance,  the  struggle  is  between 
Hamlet  and  Claudius.  Late  in  the  first  act,  after  the 
introduction,  the  exciting  force  appears  in  the  form 
of  the  ghost's  revelation  to  Hamlet.  As  a  result, 
Hamlet  is  bent  on  just  revenge.  During  the  rising 
action  the  story  develops.  Hamlet  formulates  and  puts 
into  action  "  The  Mouse-Trap."  Hamlet,  however, 
so  mismanages  this  little  device  that  Claudius  reaps 
an  advantage.  He  is  immediately  roused  into  action. 
Henceforth,  throughout  the  falling  action  Claudius  is 
the  aggressor,  directing  his  heretofore  quiescent 
energy  against  Hamlet.  The  "  Mouse-Trap  "  scene 
where  Hamlet's  aggressive  behavior  reaches  the  max- 
imum and  immediately  sinks  before  the  energy  of 
Claudius,  may  be  called  the  turning-point  of  the  play. 

The  falling  action  of  the  second  half  of  the  play 
corresponds  to  the  rising  action  of  the  first  half.  It 
is  the  logical  working  out  of  the  new  turn  of  affairs 
that  has  been  ushered  into  existence  by  the  turning- 
point. 

The  catastrophe  is  the  end.  It  should  correspond 
with  the  end  of  the  play,  all  minor  details  having 
been  disposed  of  previously;  and  it  should  also  come 
as  a  climax  of  interest. 

Oftentimes  the  climax  of  an  Elizabethan  play  is 
followed  by  a  brief  passage  that  is  usually  omitted 
to-day.  The  entrance  of  Fortinbras  and  his  soldiers 
at  the  end  of  Hamlet  is  such  a  passage.  It  was  in- 
serted by  Shakespeare  not  for  dramatic  purposes,  but 
for  mechanical.  The  absence  of  a  drop  curtain  in 
the  theaters  of  that  day  made  some  such  device  neces- 
sary in  order  to  rid  the  stage  easily  of  the  dead 
bodies. 


DRAMATIC  STRUCTURE  71 

The  familiar  diagram  representing  the  structure 
of  a  drama  is  given  below.  AB  represents  the  intro- 
duction. The  exciting  force  appears  towards  the  end 
of  this  part  or  soon  afterward.  BC  is  the  rising 
action.  C  is  the  turning-point.  CD  is  the  falling 
action.  D  is  the  catastrophe.  The  introduction  and 
the  exciting  force  usually  appear  in  the  first  act  of  an 
Elizabethan  play;  and  sometimes  the  rising  action  is 
started.  The  turning-point  is  usually  in  the  third 
act.     In  Othello,  however,  it  is  delayed  to  the  fourth, 


a  condition  more  nearly  represented  by  the  dotted 
lines  in  the  diagram.  The  catastrophe,  as  has  been 
said,  occurs  at  the  end  of  act  V.  Thus,  acts  II.  and 
IV.  are  more  or  less  transitional.  Here,  if  anywhere, 
a  slight  lull  in  the  interest  becames  tolerable.  The 
action,  however,  must  proceed  more  rapidly  towards 
the  end. 

Many  of  the  Elizabethan  plays  were  first  printed 
without  any  indication  of  division  into  acts — a  fact 
which  implies  that  no  very  great  significance  was  at- 
tached to  the  act-division.  In  fact,  the  division  of  a 
play  into  acts  was  a  mere  imitation  of  the  outward 
form  of  Seneca's  plays  which  furnished  the  earliest 
Elizabethan  models.  By  the  time  of  Shakespeare 
the  five- fold  division  was  followed  almost  as  a  habit, 


72  SHAKESPEARE 

hardly  at  all  for  its  structural  significance.  In 
Shakespeare  an  act  is  seldom  more  than  a  mere  fifth 
of  the  play.  Beyond  what  is  said  above  relative  to  the 
function  of  each  of  the  five  acts  it  is  impossible  to  go. 
Rarely  does  an  act  of  Shakespeare  correspond  to  an 
integral  unit  of  structure.  And  when  it  does  it  seems 
to  do  so  by  accident. 

The  scene,  however,  is  more  likely  to  be  a  structural 
unit.  Yet  even  in  this  case  less  significance  seems  to 
attach  to  such  divisions  than  in  a  modern  play.  Many 
of  the  early  play  texts  omit  the  division  into  scenes 
as  well  as  the  division  into  acts.  For  all  that, 
the  scene  is  in  the  majority  of  cases  an  integral 
unit. 

In  dramatic  parlance  the  word  scene  is  used  with 
varying  significance.  1.  It  represents  what  may  be 
seen,  and  is  akin  to  scenery.  2.  A  new  scene,  as  in 
French  plays  of  to-day,  is  marked  every  time  the  num- 
ber of  persons  on  the  stage  is  increased  or  diminished. 

3.  According  to  Elizabethan  practice  a  new  scene  is 
indicated  whenever  the  stage  is  completely  cleared. 

4.  The  word  is  often  used  to  denote  any  portion  of  a 
play  that  is  a  unit  in  itself — that  represents  fully  one 
brief  step  or  portion  in  the  development  of  the  story. 
This  may  include  a  dozen  scenes  if  the  text  is  printed 
according  to  the  French  custom  alluded  to  above. 

In  Elizabethan  times  the  scene  very  nearly  cor- 
responded to  what  is  mentioned  last  above.  Yet  we 
sometimes  find  a  text  scene  that  includes  more  than 
one  such  scene. 

Yet,  in  the  majority  of  cases,  an  Elizabethan  scene 
is  a  distinct  unit,  with  a  structure  somewhat  similar  to 
the  play  as  a  whole — that  is,  it  begins  quietly  with  an 


DRAMATIC  STRUCTURE  73 

introduction,  rises  to  a  climax,  and  falls  away  to  a 
quiescent  close. 

There  is  one  kind  of  scene  that  requires  especial 
mention.  Often  there  is  a  scene  that  implies  a  con- 
tinuation in  another  place  or  after  a  lapse  of  time. 
If  one  scene  followed  the  other  immediately  the  effect 
would  be  unsatisfactory.  The  audience  would  not 
appreciate  the  gap.  The  insertion,  however,  of  a 
short,  irrelevant  scene  diverts  the  attention  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  thus  emphasizes  the  lapsing  interval,  or  the 
change  of  place.  Such  division  scenes  are  of  frequent 
occurrence  in  the  Elizabethan  drama. 

Just  as  the  above  device  seems  to  emphasize  inter- 
ruptions, so  many  other  devices  serve  to  preserve  the 
continuity  of  the  parts.  Thus,  hints,  or  bits  of  fore- 
shadowing of  what  is  to  come,  are  freely  used.  Often 
the  close  of  one  scene  outlines  plainly  what  is  to 
follow  in  another;  and  the  opening  of  one  frequently 
recapitulates  what  has  happened  earlier. 

The  student  may  encounter  difficulties  in  applying 
the  structure  outlined  above  to  many  of  the  plays 
of  Shakespeare.  It  might  as  well  be  acknowledged 
at  once  that  the  structure  of  certain  plays  is  faulty. 
This  is  especially  true  of  the  history  plays.  In  the 
first  part  of  the  chapter  on  Richard  the  Third  it  is 
pointed  out  that  these  plays  belong  in  a  class  by 
themselves.  In  them  another  interest  was  paramount 
to  the  dramatic  interest.  The  loose  structure  of 
Henry  the  Sixth  is  more  characteristic  of  the  series 
than  the  accidentally  symmetrical  structure  of  Rich- 
ard the  Second.  And  again,  the  earlier  plays  of 
Shakespeare  display  less  structural  skill  than  the 
plays  of  his  maturer  years. 


74  SHAKESPEARE 

The  analysis  of  plays  composed  of  several  distinct 
threads  often  presents  difficulties.  In  King  Lear,  not 
an  easily  analyzed  play  at  the  best,  we  should  expect 
to  find  the  structural  points  referred  to  above  appear- 
ing both  in  the  Lear  and  in  the  Gloucester  stories. 
In  The  Merchant  of  Venice,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
different  stories  are  so  closely  interwoven  as  to  make 
their  structural  separation  impossible.  (It  is  pointed 
out  in  Chapter  XV.  that  act  V.  of  this  play  is  structur- 
ally unusual.) 

And  then  again,  these  rules  are  not  applied  so 
rigorously  in  comedy  as  in  tragedy  writing.  The 
mood  in  which  we  listen  to  a  comedy  is  naturally  less 
serious,  the  mind  is  less  critical,  and  the  dramatist 
not  under  so  great  a  responsibility  in  regard  to  log- 
ical sequence. 

(It  is  a  good  example  for  the  student  to  work  out 
the  structure  of  each  play  studied.  In  the  following 
chapters  hints  as  to  the  structure  are  given  from  time 
to  time.) 


CHAPTER  VIII 
HOW  TO  READ  A  PLAY 

I  have  frequently  encountered  students  who  are 
discouraged  over  the  fact  that  a  certain  period  of 
time  spent  upon  a  play  is  not  so  productive  of  results 
as  the  same  amount  of  time  spent  upon  the  study  of 
any  other  form  of  literature.  That  is,  a  student  will 
read  thirty  or  forty  pages  of  a  novel  in  an  hour  and 
be  able  to  give  a  pretty  good  account  of  himself  in 
the  class-room.  If,  however,  he  reads  a  play  at  the 
same  rate  his  knowledge  of  it  is  inconsiderable.  This 
is  as  it  should  be,  but  few  students,  and  too  few 
teachers,  realize  the  situation.  I  would  impress  upon 
the  student  at  the  outset  that  play  reading  is  slow 
in  comparison  with  any  other  kind  of  reading. 

Let  us  look  for  a  moment  into  the  actual  condi- 
tions. No  one  would  deny  that  three  men  can  do 
more  work  in  a  given  time  than  one  man.  If  one 
man  would  do  the  work  of  three  he  must  take  more 
time  to  it.  In  the  playhouse,  three  senses  are  at  work 
all  the  time: — eye,  ear,  and  mind.  With  the  eye 
one  sees  the  persons,  their  motions,  their  positions, 
their  dress,  and  the  stage  setting.  By  means  of  the 
ear  one  is  alert  to  tones  of  voice,  inflections  that  often 
give  the  meaning  rather  than  the  actual  word,  etc. 
Mentally  the  audience  is  constantly  interpreting  the 
word  symbol  into  what  it  conventionally  stands  for. 

75 


76  SHAKESPEARE 

When,  on  the  other  hand,  one  reads  a  play  in  the 
study,  all  impressions  are  received  primarily  through 
the  eye  and  the  printed  word.  The  sense  of  sight 
is  doing  the  work  that  in  the  playhouse  engaged  the 
eye,  the  ear,  and  the  mind.  Is  it  to  be  wondered  at 
that  the  process  takes  more  time? 

When  one  reads  a  play  one  must  be  alert  at  all 
times  to  supply  the  missing  points.  How  easy  it  is 
when  reading  to  lose  track  of  a  character  upon  the 
stage  who  for  the  time  being  has  nothing  to  say.  This 
would  be  impossible  on  the  stage.  How  easy  it  is  to 
recognize  a  character  whose  former  entrance  had  been 
announced  in  the  text  merely  by  a  printed  stage  direc- 
tion! In  the  playhouse  we  have  actually  seen  him, 
we  remember  his  dress,  his  features,  the  tones  of  his 
voice.  If  we  forget  his  name,  that  is  a  mere  baga- 
telle. It  is  unnecessary  to  say  more  in  order  to  make 
plain  the  fact  that  when  we  read  a  play  we  are  ac- 
quiring only  a  part  of  the  dramatic  presentation.  It 
is  the  purpose  of  this  chapter  to  suggest  a  few  prac- 
tical hints  which  will  sharpen  the  average  reader's 
attention,  thus  helping  him  to  supply  those  parts  that 
are  inevitably  present  in  a  stage  production. 

In  the  first  place,  I  should  say,  read,  read,  and  re- 
read. A  thorough  familiarity  with  the  text  is  abso- 
lutely essential.  In  every  case  the  play  should  be 
read  through  at  a  comfortable  rate  of  speed  before  one 
begins  the  actual  study  of  details. 

Make  first  a  careful  study  of  the  dramatis  personae. 
Do  not  merely  glance  over  the  list.  Read  it  carefully 
again  and  again.  Read  it  aloud  so  that  the  abbrevia- 
tions of  the  speakers'  names  used  in  the  text  will  be 
at  once  familiar.     Note  whether  the  list  is  compara- 


HOW  TO  READ  A  PLAY  77 

tively  long  or  short.  What  is  the  proportion  of  men 
to  women?  Are  the  characters  of  high  or  low  rank? 
Ask  the  dramatis  personse  every  imaginable  question 
and  try  for  an  answer. 

It  is  a  good  plan,  before  beginning  the  study  of  the 
text  proper,  to  turn  over  the  pages  of  the  play,  read- 
ing the  captions  of  the  scenes,  the  people  present  at 
the  beginning  of  each  scene,  the  entrances  and  exits, 
and  other  stage  directions.  One  can  often  in  this  way 
surmise  the  general  setting  of  the  play,  which  are  the 
important  characters,  what  are  inner  and  outer 
scenes,  etc. 

Next,  read  the  first  act  through,  on  the  way  per- 
forming conscientiously  several  tasks.  1.  Make  a 
brief  written  synopsis  of  the  story  part  of  each  act. 
2.  Note  what  characters  enter;  and  how  soon  the  en- 
tire dramatis  personae  have  appeared.  3.  Does  one 
character,  or  do  several,  stand  out  above  others  more 
prominently?  4.  What  details  are  introduced  which 
are  manifestly  to  inform  the  reader  concerning  the 
part  of  the  story  which  has  gone  before,  but  which 
does  not  form  a  part  of  the  story  as  actually  drama- 
tized? 5.  What  is  the  setting?  6.  By  what  means  is 
it  presented  to  the  reader?  7.  What  are  the  char- 
acters who  are  not  speakers  doing  with  themselves? 
8.  Make  out  frequent  plans  to  show  where  the  char- 
acters should  stand  to  the  best  advantage.  9.  Above 
all,  try  to  imagine  the  gestures,  the  manner,  and  tone 
of  voice  in  which  each  remark  is  spoken.  Reading 
aloud  is  good  practice.  10.  To  whom  is  a  remark 
addressed  and  how  is  it  received?  11.  Is  it  an  inner 
or  an  outer  scene?  12.  If  the  latter,  try  to  imagine 
the  actual  Elizabethan  setting.     To  ask  and  answer 


78  SHAKESPEARE 

these  and  similar  questions  is  time  well  spent,  al- 
though it  may  prevent  the  reading  of  more  than  a 
few  pages  in  a  given  time. 

Having  thus  acquired  a  fair  familiarity  with  the 
first  act  it  would  be  well  to  read  it  over  again,  just  as 
carefully  but  with  a  new  object  in  mind.  Persons 
take  part  in  every  dramatic  story.  It  is  the  supreme 
gift  of  the  dramatist  to  delineate  character.  In  read- 
ing a  play  we  have  in  the  actual  words  but  a  small 
portion  of  what  the  dramatist  depends  upon  for  the 
delineation  of  his  characters.  In  other  words,  we 
lack,  when  reading  the  text,  all  that  the  art  of  acting 
adds  to  the  mere  words.  We  should  do  our  best  to 
supply  the  omission. 

In  this  second  reading  of  the  first  act  one  should 
note  every  detail  which  serves  to  indicate  the  person- 
ality of  the  characters  in  the  play.  What  they  say 
may  be  an  indication.  So  may  what  they  fail  to  say. 
The  way  in  which  their  remarks  are  received  by 
others,  as  well  as  others'  opinions  of  them  will  help 
us  to  formulate  our  knowledge.  As  early  in  the  read- 
ing of  the  play  as  possible  attempt  to  formulate  the 
personality  of  each  character.  In  most  Elizabethan 
plays,  and  in  nearly  all  of  Shakespeare's,  the  chief 
characters  are  pretty  well  drawn  by  the  end  of  the 
second  act.  The  remainder  is  reiteration  and  amplifi- 
cation, merely  a  filling  out,  with  the  plot  becoming 
more  and  more  prominent  towards  the  end.  Occa- 
sionally, however,  as  in  Macbeth,  a  character  is  con- 
tinually changing  throughout  the  play.  In  such  a 
play  there  should  be  no  relaxation  of  the  continual 
scrutiny  of  the  character's  acts  and  words. 

As  it  is  advisable  to  make  a  written  synopsis  of 


HOW  TO  READ  A  PLAY  79 

the  story,  scene  by  scene,  so  it  is  equally  advisable 
to  make  frequent  brief  written  statements  of  the  per- 
sonality of  each  character.  Such  written  notes  have 
no  permanent  value,  hardly  even  the  value  of  a  class 
exercise.  Their  purpose  is  to  order  one's  thoughts, 
or,  oftentimes,  merely  to  reveal  the  hazy  condition 
of  them,  thus  spurring  one  to  the  effort  to  clear  the 
matter  up. 

When  one  has  read  each  of  the  five  acts  slowly  and 
carefully  as  indicated  above,  one  is  fairly  on  the  road 
to  a  comprehension  of  the  play.  For  all  that,  one 
is  yet  far  from  the  end  of  the  journey. 

In  reading  the  play  again  one  should  give  general 
consideration  to  several  matters  that  have  been  here- 
tofore examined  in  fragments.  Note  how  much  space 
is  given  to  the  introduction  relative  to  the  rest  of  the 
play.  Does  the  story  run  smoothly  throughout? 
How  many  crises  are  there  in  the  narrative  interest? 
Is  the  story  completely  finished  at  the  end?  Which 
thread  is  left  to  the  last?  How  and  where  have  the 
minor  threads  been  disposed  of? 

Note  the  relative  number  of  important  characters. 
One  is  often  surprised  to  find  how  few  characters  in 
one  of  Shakespeare's  plays  are  of  prime  importance. 
How  are  the  characters  grouped?  Is  there  one  of 
great  importance  in  each  group?  Is  one  character 
set  over  against  another  so  as  to  contrast  with  it? 
Or  is  one  made  almost  similar  to  another?  If  so,  do 
they  appear  together  or  separately? 

It  is  not  to  be  understood  that  these  identical  ques- 
tions should  be  asked  and  answered  in  regard  to  every 
play;  but  rather  that  they  are  illustrative  of  what 
the  alert   student   will   be   asking   continually.      The 


80  SHAKESPEARE 

actual  phrasing  of  an  answer,  either  orally  or  on 
paper,  is  so  conducive  to  clear  thinking  that  I  consider 
it  imperative. 

By  this  time  the  reader,  in  the  case  of  some  plays, 
will  be  so  familiar  with  the  characters  that  further 
study  is  unnecessary.  In  such  a  play  as  Twelfth 
Night,  the  characters  are  so  clearly  and  so  simply 
portrayed  that  one  thoroughly  familiar  with  the  lines 
of  the  play  can  hardly  escape  their  true  significance. 

Other  plays,  however,  contain  characters  so  com- 
plex and  so  enigmatical  that  special  study  from  this 
point  of  view  is  necessary.  I  know  of  no  practice  so 
valuable  as  re-reading  in  succession  only  those  scenes 
in  which  the  characters  appear.  Ponder  each  speech 
carefully.  At  any  place  where  the  significance  is  not 
fully  grasped  try  to  imagine  the  situation.  Fancy 
who  is  present,  what  the  person  would  be  thinking 
about,  what  has  recently  happened  to  him,  what  is 
he  planning  for  the  future.  Under  such  circum- 
stances, what  would  he  do?  This  will  frequently 
suggest  the  true  meaning  of  what  he  actually  does  do 
and  say. 

It  would  be  well  to  analyze  the  plot  of  each  play 
and  try  to  imagine  the  Elizabeth  staging,  as  set  forth 
in  chapters  devoted  to  these  subjects. 

In  the  following  pages  an  effort  is  made  not  to 
repeat  more  than  is  necessary.  Thus,  the  Elizabethan 
staging  is  discussed  in  detail  in  regard  to  only  a  few 
plays,  or  parts  of  plays.  Yet  it  is  assumed  that  the 
student  will  think  over  such  matters  in  regard  to  all 
the  plays.  Oftentimes  the  critical  part  of  a  char- 
acter is  discussed  in  some  part  of  the  notes  on  the 
text.     Though  nothing  further  may  be  said,  it  is  sup- 


HOW  TO  READ  A  PLAY  81 

posed  that  the  student  will  order  his  thoughts  relative 
to  the  presentation  of  the  character  as  a  whole.  Above 
all,  it  is  well  to  make  comparisons.  If  a  question  is 
asked  in  regard  to  one  play,  try  to  fit  it  to  another, 
recall  similar  passages  elsewhere,  etc.,  etc. 

There  is  a  point  in  the  study  of  every  art  where 
mechanical  application  seems  to  reach  its  limit,  and 
taste  and  intuition  begin  to  play  their  part.  Just 
here  is  where  the  rules  set  by  an  instructor  fail  to 
be  of  use.  Careful  drill  will  sharpen  one's  wits,  but 
one  must  exercise  them  for  one's  self.  Repeated  ex- 
ercise will  develop  one's  taste,  gradually  creating  the 
knowledge  of  good  and  evil.  A  knowledge  of  dra- 
matic good  and  evil  is  the  only  road  to  a  sane  appre- 
ciation of  Shakespeare's  plays.  But  for  guidance  in 
the  last  steps  of  the  process  the  student  must  depend 
upon  himself. 


CHAPTER  IX 

A  BRIEF  WORKING  BIBLIOGRAPHY 

The  following  is  not  a  bibliography  for  the  study 
of  Shakespeare ;  rather  a  very  condensed  list  of  books 
of  use  to  the  average  school-teacher,  or  to  the  reader 
who  desires  to  carry  his  study  of  Shakespeare  beyond 
the  limits  suggested  in  this  volume. 

Editions 

There  are  numerous  school  editions  of  individual 
plays  on  the  market.  In  this  day  and  generation 
there  is  no  excuse  for  a  poorly  edited  edition  of  one 
of  Shakespeare's  plays.  So  far  as  the  present  writer 
is  concerned,  who  has  examined  most  of  these  edi- 
tions, he  is  inclined  to  say  that  the  imprint  of  a  well- 
known  publisher  is  synonymous  with  accurate, 
scholarly  editorial  work.  This  edition  may  involve 
special  features  more  attractive  to  the  individual  in- 
structor than  that  one.  Among  them,  however,  I  find 
it  impossible  to  discriminate. 

The  Cambridge  Edition,  edited  by  Professor  Niel- 
son,  and  published  by  The  Houghton  Mifflin  Co.,  is 
from  the  standpoint  of  editorial  work  and  typo- 
graphical make-up  the  best  one-volume  edition  on  the 
market. 

The  Eversley  Edition,  published  by  the  Macmillan 
Co.,  in  ten  volumes,  has  but  few  notes  (on  the  page, 

82 


A  BRIEF  WORKING  BIBLIOGRAPHY       83 

however,  with  the  text).  The  introductions  to  the 
plays  are  excellent.  On  the  whole,  it  is  the  best 
reading  edition  of  the  plays  for  general  use  that  has 
come  to  my  notice. 

The  references  in  the  present  volume  are  to  the 
Tudor  Edition,  published  by  The  Macmillan  Co.,  one 
play  to  the  volume.  The  edition  seems  to  strike  the 
happy  medium  between  under  and  over  editing. 
Typographical  details  are  of  the  highest  quality. 
A  style  of  binding  cheaper  than  the  standard  recom- 
mends it  to  those  who  would  economize  carefully  in 
the  choice  of  a  class  text.  Take  it  all  in  all,  it  is 
the  present  writer's  favorite  edition  for  all  such  pur- 
poses as  are  implied  by  a  use  of  the  present  volume. 

The  Dowden  Edition,  published  by  The  Bobbs- 
Merrill  Co.  of  Indianapolis,  is  very  fully  edited.  It 
is  certainly  the  best  edition  for  the  advanced  student 
who  is  interested  in  the  textual  interpretation  of  the 
plays. 

Though  as  yet  far  from  completion,  the  Variorum 
Edition,  published  by  Lippincott  and  Co.,  is  the  final 
word  in  regard  to  the  plays  that  have  appeared. 
They  are  treated  both  textually  and  critically.  Its 
expense,  however,  in  many  cases  implies  its  use  as  a 
library  reference  book. 

Miscellaneous 

Bartlett's  Concordance,  published  by  The  Macmil- 
lan Co.,  is  the  standard  concordance.  Its  references 
are  to  the  Globe  Edition  of  the  plays,  also  published 
by  The  Macmillan  Co.  The  text,  however,  of  this 
one-volume  edition  limits  it  to  occasional  use. 


84  SHAKESPEARE 

Luce's  Handbook  to  Shakespeare* s  Works  (The 
Macmillan  Co.)  contains  in  briefest  space  the  largest 
amount  of  information  regarding  the  plays.  Though 
each  play  receives  a  brief  critical  treatment,  the  vol- 
ume is  mainly  a  storehouse  of  valuable  facts. 

Shakespeare's  London  and  The  Elizabethan  People 
(Henry  Holt  and  Co.),  both  by  the  present  author, 
are  an  attempt  to  portray  the  social  manners  and 
customs  of  the  metropolis  at  the  time  of  Shakespeare. 

The  standard  biography  is  A  Life  of  William 
Shakespeare,  by  Sidney  Lee,  The  Macmillan  Co. 


CHAPTER  X 

RICHARD  THE  THIRD 

I.    The  History  Play  as  a  Type 

During  the  decade  from  1575  to  1585  England  as 
a  great  national  power  was  slowly  coming  to  its  own. 
Even  before  the  victory  of  1588  Englishmen  had 
begun  to  realize  their  strength  and  to  feel  proud  of 
their  birthright.  Along  with  this  new  feeling  of  man- 
hood grew  up  an  intense  national  desire  on  the  part 
of  Englishmen  to  know  themselves  and  their  past. 
This  desire  was  catered  to  by  prose  writers,  as  in 
Holinshed's  Chronicle,  by  the  poets  who  produced 
histories  of  England  in  verse,  and  by  the  playwrights. 
From  their  hands  came  a  long  series  of  dramatic  pro- 
ductions whose  first  and  foremost  purpose  was  to 
popularize  history  for  the  sake  of  instruction.  These 
history  plays,  then,  were  akin  to  the  purpose  novel 
of  to-day.  At  any  rate,  the  information  concerning 
history  came  first  in  importance,  dramatic  quality  sec- 
ond. While  criticising  them  from  the  dramatic 
standpoint,  this  fact  should  never  be  lost  sight  of. 

Shakespeare's  task  in  producing  a  history  play  (ex- 
cept in  those  cases  where  he  revised  an  earlier  play) 
was  little  more  than  translating  the  narrative  of 
Holinshed  into  dramatic  dialogue.  In  some  cases  the 
original  formless  story,  as  in  Henry  the  Sixth,  re- 

85 


86  SHAKESPEARE 

suited  in  an  equally  formless  play.  In  others,  how- 
ever, notably  in  Richard  the  Second,  the  original  ma- 
terial, almost  by  accident,  shaped  itself  into  a  sym- 
metrical dramatic  composition. 

Different  writers  of  history  plays  varied  greatly 
in  their  methods  of  procedure.  In  Greene's  James  the 
Fourth  the  historical  element  is  so  secondary  as  al- 
most to  exclude  this  play  from  the  class.  Other 
writers  were  manifestly  politicians  who  seemed  to 
garble  facts  intentionally  in  order  to  effectively  pre- 
sent their  own  particular  views.  Shakespeare  among 
them  all  seems  to  be  the  fairest  in  his  dealing  with 
history.  He  displays  no  particular  bias;  he  presents 
his  source  accurately  in  the  main,  only  departing 
from  fact  in  trivial  details  that  do  not  alter  the  tenor 
of  general  truths. 

It  is  a  fact  that  he  gives  in  Richard  the  Third  a 
picture  of  the  king  which  is  believed  by  modern  his- 
torians to  be  false.  But  it  should  be  remembered 
that  Shakespeare  gives  the  picture  held  by  his  own 
generation  of  the  last  of  the  Plantagenets.  We  cannot 
accuse  the  dramatist  of  wilfully  distorting  the  pic- 
ture. 

On  the  other  hand,  we  can  find  no  evidence  that 
Shakespeare  was  an  historical  student  in  the  modern 
sense  of  the  word.  His  later  history  plays  show  him 
to  be  not  only  a  clear  but  also  a  deep  thinker  on  his- 
torical subjects.  But  the  plays  nowhere  afford  the 
least  indication  of  the  modern  spirit  of  investigation. 
Research  was  unknown  to  him.  He  did  not  go  to 
original  sources,  he  did  not  try  to  discover  both  sides, 
he  did  not  try  to  weigh  all  the  evidence  and  judge 
impartially.     He  merely  took  what  was  the  currently 


RICHARD  THE  THIRD  87 

accepted  historical  account  for  granted.  This  he 
transformed  into  the  best  dramatic  terms  possible. 

What  the  history  play  really  was  is  best  illustrated 
by  a  comparison  of  three  plays  on  the  same  subject — 
namely,  the  reign  of  King  John.  The  first  of  the 
three  is  not  really  a  history  play  at  all.  The  second 
is  a  true  history  play,  written,  however,  before  the 
type  had  passed  beyond  its  crudest  stage.  The  third, 
Shakespeare's  King  John,  is  a  play  written  but  a  few 
years  before  the  type  reached  its  highest  develop- 
ment. 

1.  John  Bale's  King  Johan,  though  not  a  true  his- 
tory play  as  we  are  now  using  the  term,  is  the  earliest 
Elizabethan  play  whose  subject-matter  is  drawn  from 
English  history.     It  was  probably  written  about  1550. 

"  The  play  opens  with  a  speech  by  the  king  in  which  he 
declares  his  determination  to  do  justice.  England,  as  a 
widow,  implores  his  help  against  the  clergy,  but  this  con- 
fidence is  interrupted  by  Sedition,  who  is  strongly  clerical 
in  his  sympathies.  Nobility,  Clergy,  and  Civil  Order  come 
in  and  discuss  the  state  of  the  kingdom,  and  Clergy  makes 
a  hypocritical  submission.  Dissimulation  and  Sedition  take 
counsel  and  bring  in  Private  Wealth  and  Usurped  Power 
to  their  aid.  They  procure  the  election  of  Stephen  Langton 
as  archbishop  (here  we  touch  history)  and  soon  after  we 
have  the  Pope  cursing  King  John  for  his  attacks  on  the 
church.  This  closes  act  1.  In  the  second  act  we  find  the 
clergy  preparing  to  resist  the  king.  .  .  .  In  a  subsequent 
scene  we  are  shown  John's  submission  to  Pandulph,  and 
the  hard  terms  exacted  of  him,  but  Sedition  is  not  satisfied 
and  procures  a  fanatic  monk  to  murder  the  king.  .  .  .  But 
now  come  on  Verity  and  Imperial  Majesty.  The  memory 
of  the  king  is  vindicated,  and  the  play  ends  with  com- 
pliments to  Queen  Elizabeth."  * 

*  Pollard:  English  Morality  Plays. 


88  SHAKESPEARE 

The  play  reminds  us  of  the  Elizabethan  drama  in 
only  two  points. 

First:  The  author  loses  no  opportunity  to  abuse 
the  Roman  Catholic  clergy.  In  fact,  the  play  is  a 
religious  tract.  Bale,  the  author,  though  educated 
in  a  monastery  and  in  holy  orders,  had  married  and 
had  preached  against  the  celibacy  of  the  clergy.  For 
this  he  was  obliged  to  leave  the  country.  He  re- 
turned, however,  and  found  protection,  only  to  be 
driven  out  again  at  the  accession  of  Queen  Mary,  but 
to  return  to  his  native  country  a  second  time  at  the 
accession  of  Elizabeth.  His  hatred  of  the  Roman 
church,  which  was  due  to  the  harsh  treatment  he 
had  received  at  its  hands,  is  everywhere  evident 
throughout  the  play.  In  this  expression  of  the  per- 
sonal feeling  of  the  author  regarding  current 
events  the  play  reminds  us  of  the  Elizabethan 
drama. 

It  also  reminds  us  of  the  Elizabethan  drama  in 
another  though  unimportant  way:  namely,  it  closes 
with  a  flattering  tribute  to  the  queen.  This  custom, 
which  was  frequently  practised  in  Shakespeare's  day, 
has  in  this  play  already  found  its  birth. 

In  general,  however,  the  play  of  King  Johan  is 
altogether  unlike  the  Elizabethan  drama.  In  the  first 
place,  it  is  written  in  a  rough,  halting  meter  which  is 
hard  to  read  and  harder  to  listen  to.  The  lines  are 
arranged  in  long,  jingling  couplets  that  for  the  most 
part  rhyme  two  and  two.  It  differs  from  the  Eliza- 
bethan plays  in  another  vital  characteristic.  It  con- 
tains little  or  no  action  worthy  of  dramatic  presenta- 
tion. It  is  full  of  long,  tedious  dialogues  which  are 
either  epic  in  their  character,  or  are  mere  arguments 


RICHARD  THE  THIRD  89 

and  debates  concerning  the  present  condition  of 
England. 

In  other  ways  the  play  is  unlike  the  more  finished 
drama  of  Shakespeare's  day.  It  possesses  no  unity 
whatever,  let  alone  a  unity  of  action,  which  implies 
an  orderly  arrangement  of  incidents  based  upon  the 
law  of  cause  and  effect.  There  is  no  attempt  to  bind 
the  parts  together  by  means  of  the  ordinary  dramatic 
conventions,  such  as  foreshadowing,  cross-linking,  etc. 
It  almost  entirely  lacks  human  interest,  and  fails  ut- 
terly to  appeal  to  the  passions  of  the  audience,  which 
appeal  is  the  main  asset  of  Shakespeare  and  his  con- 
temporaries. But  slight  knowledge  of  history  is  made 
use  of;  and  there  is  displayed  practically  no  indi- 
viduality of  character. 

A  mere  glance  at  the  dramatis  persons  reveals  its 
greatest  departure  from  Elizabethan  traditions.  Of 
the  nineteen  characters,  only  five  or  six  represent 
persons ;  and  of  them,  only  the  king  has  a  personality 
of  his  own,  and  that  none  too  well  defined.  All  the 
others  who  take  part  are  the  personified  abstractions 
of  the  Morality  plays:  Clergy,  Nobility,  Private 
Wealth,  Treason,  etc.  It  is  this  that  links  the  play 
hard  and  fast  to  the  preceding  era,  notwithstanding 
the  fact  that  it  deals  with  material  that  is  distinctly 
within  the  province  of  the  history  play. 

This  brief  review  of  a  play  that  is  not  one  of  those 
we  have  under  consideration  is  necessary  to  a  clear 
conception  of  the  birth  of  the  history  play  itself. 

2.  The  second  play  of  the  three  here  considered 
was  published  in  1591,  though  written,  doubtless, 
much  earlier.  In  the  period  that  elapsed  between 
Bale's  King  Johan  and   The  Troublesome  Reign  of 


90  SHAKESPEARE 

King  John  the  great  religious  struggle  had  come  to 
a  head.  Though  the  play  may  have  appeared  before 
the  great  emancipation  of  England  in  1588,  the  coun- 
try already  knew  its  power,  and  the  patriotic  wave 
was  on  the  rise.  People  had  become  interested  in  the 
history  of  their  ancestors.  For  all  that,  none  of  the 
great  Elizabethan  plays  had  appeared.  The  drama 
was  still  crude,  the  rules  of  structure  not  yet  formu- 
lated. 

By  this  time  the  drama  had  begun  to  fill  in  part 
the  place  of  the  modern  periodical  and  popular  text- 
book. It  was  akin,  as  has  been  said,  to  the  novel  of 
purpose.  And  its  purpose  was  well  defined:  namely 
to  instruct  the  people  in  the  history  of  England. 

The  Troublesome  Reign  of  King  John,  which  is 
written  for  the  most  part  in  blank  verse,  shows  a 
great  advance  over  King  Johan.  It  opens  with  a 
scene  that  presents  a  definite  point  of  beginning  for 
the  plot.  Chatillon,  the  French  ambassador,  enters 
to  King  John  and  his  court  to  claim  the  crown  of 
England  for  John's  nephew  Arthur,  who  is  with  the 
king  of  France.  John,  of  course,  refuses  the  justice 
of  the  claim.  Chatillon  departs,  vowing  war  and 
vengeance. 

There  follows  a  very  clumsy  scene.  Robert  and 
Philip  enter,  each  claiming  to  be  the  heir  of  Sir 
Robert  Falconbridge.  The  debate  hangs  on  the  par- 
entage of  Philip.  Robert  asserts  that  Philip  is  the 
son  of  Richard  Coeur-de-Lion.  His  only  proof  is  the 
resemblance  of  Philip  to  the  former  king  of  England. 
King  John  resolves  to  solve  the  difficulty  by  applying 
to  Philip  and  to  his  mother.  Both  vehemently  deny 
his  bastardy.     Then,  for  mere  form's  sake,  the  question 


RICHARD  THE  THIRD  91 

is  put  again.  This  time  Philip  assents  just  as  posi- 
tively that  he  is  the  son  of  the  king.  King  John  is 
satisfied.  He  recognizes  Philip  Plantagenet,  and  con- 
firms Robert  as  heir  to  Falconbridge.  The  only  bear- 
ing that  this  incident  has  on  the  play  is  that  later 
Philip  becomes  one  of  John's  staunch  henchmen. 

Here  we  see  plainly  illustrated  the  lack  of  care  in 
planning  one  scene  to  prepare  for  the  next.  The  law 
of  cause  and  effect  is  not  followed.  There  is  no 
reason  for  Philip's  denial  changing  into  an  affirma- 
tion. No  pressure  is  brought  to  bear  to  make  him 
change  his  attitude.  Likewise,  there  is  no  attempt  to 
justify  the  king  for  believing  Philip,  who  has  just 
proved  himself  a  liar.  The  author  must  have  felt 
the  crudeness,  for  he  makes  the  widow  of  Falconbridge 
acknowledge  later  that  Philip  is  not  her  husband's 
child. 

Crude  as  this  presentation  is,  it  is  far  ahead  of  King 
Johan.  There  are  no  personified  abstractions.  The 
author  starts  at  a  definite  point  in  the  plot,  and  real- 
izes the  necessity  of  introducing  all  the  principal 
characters  early  in  the  play.  There  is  shown  a  con- 
siderable knowledge  of  the  then-accepted  history  of 
the  time ;  and  the  desire  to  present  it  for  its  own  sake 
is  evident  from  first  to  last. 

For  instance:  when  the  two  kings  meet  in  France 
before  Angiers  much  space  is  occupied  by  explaining 
in  detail  the  political  situation,  and  the  claim  of  Ar- 
thur. Lest  the  audience  should  not  take  it  all  in 
at  once,  the  matter  is  re-explained  when  the  king 
summons  Angiers  to  surrender. 

The  town,  however,  refuses  to  surrender.  There 
is  a  good  deal  of  fighting.    At  last  it  is  proposed  that 


92  SHAKESPEARE 

the  Dauphin  marry  John's  niece.  This  is  agreed 
upon.  The  two  kings  are  reconciled.  Arthur's  claim 
is  merely  ignored.  To  all  intents  and  purposes  the 
play  seems  to  be  at  an  end. 

For  all  that,  the  play  is  by  no  means  finished.  It 
begins  all  over  again.  Just  as  Chatillon  appeared  at 
the  beginning  to  make  trouble  between  John  and 
France,  so  Cardinal  Pandulph  now  enters  to  make 
trouble  between  John  and  Rome.  He  upbraids  the 
king  for  opposing  the  election  of  Stephen  Langthon 
to  the  See  of  Canterbury — a  thread  of  interest  for 
which  the  audience  is  in  no  way  prepared.  John 
continues  his  refusal.  He  is  excommunicated.  The 
rest  of  the  play  is  occupied  with  his  struggle  against 
the  Pope. 

So  far  as  the  facts  of  history  were  then  known, 
this  play  popularizes  with  sufficient  accuracy  the 
principal  events  of  the  reign  of  King  John,  but  with 
one  important  exception.  There  is  no  reference  to 
the  signing  of  the  Great  Charter.  Yet  it  is  a  true 
history  play  in  purpose  and  in  subject.  Its  defects 
of  form  are  the  defects  of  the  drama  of  the  day, 
then  in  its  crude  infancy. 

Let  us  now  see  how  the  master  hand  of  Shake- 
speare, yet  in  its  immaturity,  however,  has  treated  the 
same  theme. 

3.  King  John,  by  far  the  most  important  and  dra- 
matically the  most  perfect  of  the  three  plays,  may 
be  discussed  in  relatively  fewer  words  because  it  is  so 
familiar.  It  shows  a  great  advance  in  plot  construc- 
tion and  continuity  of  action.  It  begins  and  ends 
sharply.  Though  there  is  no  marked  balance  and 
symmetry  of  structure,  it  possesses  a  connected  and 


RICHARD  THE  THIRD  93 

continuous  action.  One  scene  leads  up  to  the  next. 
Most  of  the  significant  situations  grow  out  of  the 
preceding.  No  better  illustration  can  be  cited  of 
increased  skill  in  this  respect  than  the  scene  where 
Falconbridge  establishes  his  identity.  In  The  Trou- 
blesome Reign  the  whole  matter  is  accomplished  at  the 
expense  of  inconsistent  character  portrayal.  In  King 
John  the  situation  is  developed  naturally  and  con- 
vincingly. Everything  happens  in  accordance  with 
realistic  character.  One  feels  no  dismay  due  to  plot- 
ridden  personalities.  Throughout  the  play  historical 
situations  are  sufficiently  but  not  over-explained.  As 
a  last  improvement  we  note  that  the  abrupt  end  and 
new  start  in  the  midst  of  the  former  play  has  been 
done  away  with. 

Improvement  in  plot,  however,  does  not  mark  the 
main  advance  of  this  play.  The  difference  in  char- 
acter drawing  is  almost  immeasurable.  The  people 
are  realistic.  Every  member  of  the  dramatis  per- 
sonae  is  an  individual.  So  valuable  is  this  quality  that 
the  fact  of  Shakespeare's  having  found  the  plot  almost 
completely  worked  out  for  him  in  advance  becomes 
negligible.     The  play  is  his  own  creation. 

To  recapitulate:  Shakespeare  shows  great  advance 
in  the  art  of  character  drawing,  telling  a  story,  and 
dramatic  technique.  He  adds,  however,  no  detail 
characteristic  of  the  type  which  is  not  to  be  found 
in  The  Troublesome  Reign.  One  play  is  as  character- 
istic of  the  type  as  the  other.  Shakespeare  has 
merely  improved  the  type. 


94  SHAKESPEARE 

II.    Shakespeare's  History  Plays 

A  consideration  of  all  of  Shakespeare's  plays  shows 
him  to  be  the  man  of  the  hour.  He  did  not  originate. 
He  took  what  he  found  and  bettered  it.  This  asser- 
tion is  equally  true  of  the  history  plays.  What  is  set 
forth  above  relative  to  King  John  is  true  of  all  of 
them.  The  type  was  the  vogue.  Shakespeare  took 
it  up.    And  he  has  given  us  the  best  of  it. 

Shakespeare  wrote  or  participated  in  ten  history 
plays.  Two  are  excluded  from  the  following  discus- 
sion: King  John  because  enough  has  been  said  of  it 
above;  Henry  the  Eighth  because  it  was  written  in 
collaboration  after  a  lapse  of  many  years,  and  does 
not  properly  belong  to  the  present  consideration. 

As  a  matter  of  convenience  for  discussion  the  re- 
maining eight  plays  are  divided  into  two  groups  which 
possess  decidedly  different  characteristics.  I  call  the 
three  parts  of  Henry  the  Sixth  and  Richard  the  Third 
the  York  plays ;  Richard  the  Second,  the  two  parts  of 
Henry  the  Fourth,  and  Henry  the  Fifth  the  Lan- 
caster plays.  The  first  group  was  written  before  the 
second  and  possesses  marked  differences.* 

In  the  York  plays  we  find  that  narrative  is  of  the 
first  interest.  It  is  as  if  Shakespeare  set  to  work 
on  that  most  objective  of  all  histories,  Holinshed's 
Chronicle,  with  but  one  task  before  him:  namely,  to 
dramatize  the  story,  to  present  the  simple  narrative. 
We  find  little  or  no  attention  given  to  questioned  mo- 
tives beyond  the  desire  to  make  the  dramatic  char- 

*  There  is  a  difference  of  opinion  as  to  whether  or  not 
Richard  the  Third  preceded  Richard  the  Second.  I  am 
of  the  opinion  that  it  did,  but  the  question  is  of  minor  im- 
portance in  the  following  discussion. 


RICHARD  THE  THIRD  95 

acter  plausible  on  the  stage.  We  find  little  moraliz- 
ing, little  reflection  on  the  great  issues  at  stake,  no 
appreciation  of  the  inner  political  significance  of  the 
material  dealt  with.  In  other  words,  Shakespeare  is 
concerned  with  the  outward,  pictorial,  and  spectacu- 
lar aspect  of  the  facts  of  history,  not  with  their  inner 
significance. 

The  York  plays  deal  with  a  threefold  theme:  1. 
The  fall  of  the  House  of  Lancaster.  2.  The  rise  of 
the  House  of  York.  3.  The  fall  of  the  House  of 
York.  Thus,  in  the  four  plays  devoted  to  Henry  the 
Sixth  and  Richard  the  Third  we  find  the  old  story  of 
the  Wars  of  the  Roses  dramatized  for  popular  in- 
struction. 

The  Lancaster  plays,  though  written  later,  deal 
with  an  earlier  period.  They  are  Richard  the  Second, 
two  parts  of  Henry  the  Fourth,  and  Henry  the  Fifth. 
In  them  we  find  that  the  interest  in  mere  narrative 
is  no  longer  supreme.  The  dramatist  has  developed 
a  real  interest  in  the  meaning  of  historical  events. 
And  he  has  infused  these  plays  with  this  new  spirit. 
He  reads  Holinshed  more  critically,  he  is  constantly 
reading  between  the  lines.  He  is  fully  aware  of  the 
fact  that  the  objective  narrative  is  superficial.  His- 
tory is  a  matter  of  deeper  moment  than  a  series  of 
pictures  to  be  enjoyed  as  a  spectacle.  There  has 
been  born  in  his  mind  the  attitude  that  gives  rise  to 
modern  constitutional  histories  rather  than  to  picture 
books. 

The  theme  of  this  set  of  plays  is  also  threefold: 
1.  Who  is  responsible  for  civil  war?  2.  The  influence 
of  personal  character  in  determining  history.  3.  A 
king's  responsibility  to  his  people  and  to  his  God. 


96  SHAKESPEARE 

Though  three  of  the  history  plays  are  considered 
in  detail  later,  it  is  not  possible  here  to  work  out  all 
of  the  above  propositions.  I  hope  later  to  supple- 
ment the  present  volume  with  chapters  dealing  with 
the  remaining  plays  of  Shakespeare.  For  the  present, 
however,  a  few  suggestions  must  suffice  for  the 
omitted  plays. 

In  the  York  plays  we  note  improvement  in  tech- 
nique. The  four  plays,  to  be  sure,  are  not  distinct 
dramas,  each  with  a  symmetrical  structure  of  its  own. 
They  form,  on  the  other  hand,  an  almost  continuous 
story.  There  is  little  skill  shown  in  binding  the  parts 
together,  or  in  linking  various  threads.  The  character 
drawing  is  at  times  the  crudest,  in  others,  as  in  Rich- 
ard the  Third,  more  finished.  The  stage  handling  of 
battle  scenes  improves  steadily.  The  law  of  nemesis 
is  observed  throughout.  On  the  other  hand,  there 
seems  to  be  little  recognition  of  graded  punishment. 
Death  is  the  constant  penalty.  There  is  no  account 
taken  of  the  inalienable  rights  of  the  commonalty. 
The  plays  deal  with  kings  and  princes,  peers  and 
potentates.  Common  people  are  usually  introduced 
merely  for  comic  effect. 

The  Lancaster  plays,  on  the  other  hand,  are  alto- 
gether different.  There  is  plenty  of  action.  The 
narrative  is  not  stinted,  but  it  is  not  supreme.  There 
is  a  steady  improvement  in  the  minor  details  of  dra- 
matic technique.  The  rights  of  the  common  people 
are  here  taken  into  consideration,  the  final  conclusion, 
voiced  in  Henry  the  Fifth,  being  that  they  are  su- 
preme. The  king  is  as  worthy  of  punishment  as  the 
commonest  person  in  the  kingdom.  Thus  Richard  the 
Second  is  not  so  much  concerned  with  telling  the  story 


RICHARD  THE  THIRD  97 

of  Richard's  deposition  as  in  showing  that  he  lost  his 
crown  because  he  disregarded  the  rights  of  his  people. 
Again,  Bolingbroke  rebels  against  his  sovereign. 
Was  that  right?  The  ultimate  success  of  the  House 
of  Lancaster  answers  yes.  The  trials  and  remorse  of 
King  Henry  himself  answer  no.  In  other  words, 
Henry  succeeded  because  he  did  what  was  best  for 
England;  he  was  punished  because  he  used  question- 
able means. 

These  and  other  questions  of  principle  are  what 
are  worked  out  in  the  Lancaster  plays,  culminating  in 
Henry  the  Fifth,  Shakespeare's  picture  of  The  Happy 
Warrior. 

III.    Shakespeare's  Relation  to  Marlowe 

When  Shakespeare  began  his  stage  career  in  Lon- 
don as  a  reviser  of  old  plays,  Christopher  Marlowe 
was  not  only  at  the  zenith  of  his  career  but  also  uni- 
versally recognized  as  the  foremost  dramatist  of  the 
day.  He  had  already  inspired  a  set  of  imitators, 
among  whom  we  find  Shakespeare.  The  latter  had 
imitated  Lyly,  or  was  soon  to  do  so,  in  comedy.  So 
he  took  Marlowe  as  his  model  in  history  and  tragedy. 
So  close  is  this  imitation  in  Richard  the  Third  that 
occasional  critics  have  advanced  the  idea  that  in  real- 
ity it  is  a  play  by  Marlowe. 

Though  in  one  way  Shakespeare  is  the  most  orig- 
inal of  poets,  it  cannot  be  denied  that  he  was  a  crafty 
imitator.  It  is,  however,  impossible  ever  to  follow 
his  imitation  far.  Thus  we  soon  find  him  outgrowing 
his  model.  The  Marlowesque  character  of  Richard 
the  Third  was  followed  (I  think)  by  the  character  of 


98  SHAKESPEARE 

Richard  the  Second,  conceived  and  portrayed  from  a 
different  point  of  view  and  in  a  different  way.  In 
fact,  the  often  referred  to  resemblance  between  Mar- 
lowe's Edward  the  Second  and  Shakespeare's  Richard 
the  Second  has  never  appeared  to  me.  And  in  a  later 
chapter  I  have  tried  to  show  that  Richard  the  Second 
really  indicates  Shakespeare's  emancipation  from  the 
Marlowe  tradition. 


IV.    Notes  on  the  Text 


% 


Act  I.,  Scene  i.,  line  1,  etc.  The  opening  soli^quy. 
Soliloquys  in  Elizabethan  plays  were  used  for  two 
purposes.  In  the  first  place,  the  soliloquy  was  the 
conventional  way  of  expressing  one's  unspoken 
thoughts.  In  such  a  case,  though  the  audience  hears 
the  words,  it  fancies  them  unspoken.  The  acfor  is 
really  supposed  for  the  time  being  to  be  lost  in  "silent 
meditation.  The  spoken  words  merely  constitute  the 
dramatist's  device  for  getting  the  silent  thoughts  be- 
fore the  audience.  We  are  not  to  look  upon  the  person 
who  soliloquizes  as  one  who  is  in  the  habit  of  talking 
to  himself  aloud.  Hence,  such  a  soliloquy  represents 
the  inmost  personality  of  the  speaker. 

The  soliloquy,  however,  is  frequently  used  for  an- 
other purpose.  All  that  the  dramatist  has  to  say  to 
the  audience  must  proceed  through  the  lips  of  the 
various  characters.  So  long  as  they  speak  for  them- 
selves there  is  no  difficulty.  On  occasion,  however, 
the  dramatist  longs  for  the  novelist's  privilege  of 
speaking  to  the  audience  in  his  own  person.  Though 
seldom  so  used  to-day,  the  Elizabethan  playwright 
often  used  the  soliloquy  for  this  purpose.     There  are 


RICHARD  THE  THIRD  99 

times  when  the  soliloquy  is  not  really  indicative  of 
the  speaker's  thoughts  at  all,  but  in  reality  represents 
some  thought  in  the  mind  of  Shakespeare  which  he 
desires  to  convey  to  the  audience. 

The  soliloquy  of  Lady  Macbeth  uttered  after  read- 
ing her  husband's  letter  is  truly  characteristic.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  soliloquy  in  which  Prince  Hal 
informs  the  audience  that  he  will  eventually  throw 
off  his  trivifel  personality  and  become  the  great  king 
is  not  consj^tent  with  the  character  at  all.  It  is 
Shakespeare's  hint  to  the  audience,  forestalling  pos- 
sible criticism  of  an  adverse  kind  for  making  light  of 
the  character  of  Henry  the  Fifth. 

It  is  always  necessary  to  bear  this  double  use  in 
mind;  and  it  is  not  always  easy  to  determine  which 
application  to  make. 

In  the  present  soliloquy  we  have  a  very  accurate 
description  of  the  character  of  King  Richard.  How- 
ever, the  sentiments  expressed  are  hardly  indicative 
of  the  thoughts  that  would  be  passing  in  his  mind. 
Many  men  are  given  to  accurate  self-analysis ;  but  the 
character  of  Richard  as  set  forth  in  Henry  the  Sixth 
and  in  this  play  is  hardly  one  that  would  prompt  such 
a  self-judgment.  We  are  compelled  to  think  of  the 
soliloquy  as  proceeding  from  Shakespeare  rather  than 
from  Richard  himself. 

Note  also  the  unusual  condition  of  a  play  opening 
with  a  speech  by  the  main  character. 

I.  i.   145,  etc.    Does  Richard's  gleeful  talk  of  his 
own  wickedness  sound  natural?  or  does  it  seem  to  be 
a  mere  pose?     Watch  the  character  of  Richard  care- 
fully throughout  the  play.    Does  he  take  himself  more  -— r~ 
seriously  towards  the  end? 


100  SHAKESPEARE 

I.  i.  161,  162.  Note  the  rhymed  couplet  at  the 
end.  In  the  chapter  on  verse  it  is  pointed  out  that 
Shakespeare  used  rhyme  less  and  less  as  time  went 
on.  This  rhyme,  however,  is  of  a  peculiar  nature. 
It  is  introduced  for  the  purpose  of  giving  the  actor 
a  sort  of  vocal  flourish  at  the  last  moment  to  assist 
his  exit.  Such  rhyme-tags  were  used  by  Shakespeare 
even  after  he  had  practically  discarded  the  ordinary 
use  of  rhyme. 

I.  ii.  In  this  scene  Richard  meets  the  body  of 
Henry  the  Sixth  mourned  by  his  daughter,  the  Lady 
Anne.  She  knows  that  both  her  husband  and  her 
father  have  been  murdered  by  Richard.  She  hates 
him  viciously.  Richard  meets  her.  In  the  course 
of  a  short  conversation  she  turns  the  body  of  the  king 
over  to  him  willingly,  and  practically  acknowledges 
favorable  progress  in  Richard's  suit  for  her  hand. 

Briefly  stated  in  this  way  the  situation  seems  im- 
possible. Even  the  daring  Richard  would  hardly 
have  attempted  it  under  ordinary  circumstances.  No 
woman  for  whom  we  entertain  the  sympathy  that  we 
have  at  times  for  Anne  could  have  capitulated  so  ig- 
nominiously.  As  the  scene  reads  it  is  thoroughly 
unconvincing. 

Before  a  modern  audience,  the  scene  on  the  stage 
is  no  more  effective.  To  portray  Anne  as  an  un- 
feeling doll  who  could  do  such  an  act  naturally  is 
to  sacrifice  other  vital  moments  in  the  presentation 
of  her  character.  Nor,  were  she  such,  would  Richard 
have  felt  the  necessity  of  marrying  her  as  a  detail 
in  the  safety  of  his  plans.  No  matter  how  well  the 
part  of  Richard  is  acted,  this  scene  is  one  to  be  over- 
looked when  we  are  searching  for  plausibility. 


RICHARD  THE  THIRD  101 

I  think,  however,  that  to  the  Elizabethans  the 
scene  was  very  different  in  its  effect.  The  above 
objections  did  not  appear  to  Shakespeare's  audience. 
In  other  words,  the  situation  seen  through  Eliza- 
bethan eyes  was  thoroughly  plausible. 

The  Elizabethans  believed  implicitly  in  a  personal 
devil.  They  believed  that  he  manifested  himself  in 
all  sorts  of  ways  in  the  ordinary  daily  life  of  the 
people.  Horatio's  first  impulsive  thought  was  that 
the  apparition  which  beckoned  Hamlet  was  not  his 
father's  ghost  but  the  devil  in  disguise.  So  here, 
I  think,  the  Elizabethans  understood  the  victory  of 
Richard  as  due  to  the  devil,  not  merely  to  his  own 
wicked  personality. 

In  I.  iii.  228  Queen  Margaret  calls  him  elfish 
marked,  and  says  (line  229),  "  Thou  that  wast  sealed 
in  thy  nativity  .  .  .  the  son  of  hell."  In  the  present 
scene  (ii.  45)  Lady  Anne  remarks,  "  And  mortal  eyes 
cannot  endure  the  devil " ;  a  statement  the  truth  of 
which  she  is  soon  going  to  exemplify  in  her  own  be- 
havior. She  continues  (line  46),  "  Avaunt,  thou 
dreadful  minister  of  hell."  And  in  line  67  she  speaks 
of  Richard's  hell-governed  arm. 

Later,  when  Richard  offers  Anne  his  sword  she 
still  hates  him,  offers  at  him,  but  her  arm  is  power- 
less. In  the  moments  that  follow,  her  behavior  is 
exactly  that  of  one  who  is  bewitched.  Richard  him- 
self (line  237)  attributes  his  power,  the  result  of 
which  is  a  surprise  even  to  him,  to  the  devil.  And 
in  IV.  i.  66,  etc.,  Anne  in  looking  back  finds  her  own 
behavior  to  be  incomprehensible  from  any  rational 
point  of  view. 

I  think  the  Elizabethans  considered  Richard  to  have 


102  SHAKESPEARE 

exercised  the  perfectly  natural  power  of  magic  over 
Anne. 

I.  iii.  What  is  the  situation  of  the  queen's  kinsfolk? 
and  how  will  their  situation  be  altered  by  the  death 
of  Edward? 

I.  iv.  None  of  the  plays  written  in  the  maturer 
period  of  Shakespeare's  workmanship  is  so  devoid  as 
Richard  the  Third  of  characters  with  whom  we  fully 
sympathize.  In  this  respect  Clarence  of  this  play 
stands  almost  alone.  This  pathetic  scene  belongs  to 
him.  Note  how  it  is  supplemented  by  the  words  of 
Edward  in  II.  i. 

The  death  of  Clarence  is  a  mere  detail  in  Richard's 
plan  to  sweep  away  all  impediments  to  the  throne. 
Being  a  mere  detail,  the  space  given  to  it  in  this 
scene  and  in  the  next  is  out  of  all  proportion  to  its 
importance  in  the  full  development  of  the  story. 
Nevertheless,  this  scene  and  the  next  are  among  the 
best  scenes  of  the  play.  We  could  hardly  spare  them 
even  if  their  condensation  improved  the  compactness 
of  the  play  as  a  whole. 

II.  i.  79.  Stage  direction,  "  they  all  start."  Note 
the  intense  dramatic  effect  of  Richard's  sudden  an- 
nouncement of  the  death  of  Clarence.  Try  to  picture 
the  group  on  the  stage  and  how  each  one  takes  the 
news.  In  the  first  place,  Richard  is  the  guilty  party. 
He  is  thoroughly  in  command  of  himself.  Yet,  ac- 
cording to  the  letter,  the  king,  though  now  repentant, 
is  actually  responsible.  (How  much  good  is  there  in 
Edward's  character?) 

What  of  Buckingham  at  this  point?  In  line  83  he 
asks  Dorset,  ".Look  I  so  pale  as  the  rest?"  What 
does  this  line  mean?     It  has  been  suggested  that  he 


RICHARD  THE  THIRD  103 

is  one  of  the  guilty  parties  and  fears  that  he  shows 
it  in  his  face.  If  so,  would  he  have  referred  to  the 
fact?  "  Rest"  refers  to  the  queen's  kindred.  Their 
guilty  looks  are  referred  to  in  line  135.  But  they 
are  really  not  guilty.  Is  it  possible  that  Buckingham 
is  as  yet  so  little  in  with  Richard's  plans  as  not  to 
know  that  he  lies  in  line  135?  If  so,  Buckingham 
may  fear  that  he  will  be  the  next  victim  of  the 
queen's  kindred,  and  therefore  asks  whether  he  shows 
his  fear  by  the  paleness  of  his  face. 

Again,  the  passage  may  have  no  character  signifi- 
cance at  all,  being  merely  a  dramatic  device  to  call 
attention  to  the  others  and  to  suggest  their  looks.  It 
should  be  remembered  that  a  miscellaneous  group  of 
actors  cannot  turn  suddenly  pale  at  will.  There  are 
traditions  that  some  of  the  great  actors  have  been 
able  to  control  the  color  of  their  features,  but  it  is 
a  rare  accomplishment,  not  to  be  depended  upon  under 
ordinary  circumstances.  Without  this  line,  the  audi- 
ence would  not  notice  the  pale  group  upon  the  stage, 
but  with  it,  it  is  easy  to  imagine  their  appearance. 

II.  i.  100.  Derby's  request  for  his  servants  in  regard 
to  a  trivial  matter  serves  to  emphasize  Edward's  fol- 
lowing speech  concerning  the  similar  but  momentous 
situation  involving  Clarence.  Here  is  where  Edward 
appears  to  the  best  advantage  in  the  play;  and  his 
speech  beginning  with  line  102  is  one  of  the  finest 
passages. 

II.  ii.  70,  etc.  There  is  a  symmetrical  artificiality 
about  this  passage  that  we  miss  in  Shakespeare's  later 
plays.  In  the  early  years  of  the  generation  blank 
verse  was  more  bombastic  and  acting  probably  more 
stilted  than  in  later  years.    Lyly,  too,  had  done  more 


104  SHAKESPEARE 

than  any  other  dramatist  to  popularize  word-play  and 
artificial  balance  both  in  sentence  structure  and  in 
the  larger  details  of  dramatic  structure.  (See  the 
double  speeches  of  the  ghost  to  Richmond  and  to 
Richard  later  in  the  play,  and  the  two  orations  before 
the  armies.)  The  artificial  character  of  this  passage 
is  probably  due  more  to  the  example  of  Lyly  than  to 
that  of  Marlowe,  whose  manner  in  general  is  so  closely 
followed  in  this  play. 

II.  iii.  "  2  Cit.,"  etc.  Speeches  attributed  to  a  vague, 
indefinite  person,  as  Second  Citizen,  usually  indicate 
rumor  and  hearsay.  That  is,  the  ideas  expressed  are 
not  held  by  these  particular  citizens  but  by  any  and 
all  citizens  in  general. 

II.  iv.  The  lines  spoken  by  children  in  Shake- 
speare's plays  should  not  be  scrutinized  too  carefully 
from  the  standpoint  of  naturalness.  It  was  a  dra- 
matic convention  of  the  day  to  represent  children  on 
the  stage  as  more  precocious  than  we  generally  find 
them  in  real  life.  Just  as  to-day  the  bright  sayings 
of  youthful  prodigies  often  suggest  an  adult  origin. 

III.  ii.  22.  Note  that  Catesby  is  playing  a  double 
part.  Though  really  Richard's  man,  he  is  pretending 
to  be  Hastings'.  The  latter  shows  his  confidence  by 
the  free  expression  of  his  intentions,  lines  43-45. 

III.  iii.  This  is  a  division  scene.  (See  chapter 
on  Dramatic  Structure.)  At  the  end  of  scene  ii.  the 
group  of  speakers  is  proceeding  to  the  Tower.  After 
a  short  lapse  of  time  they  appear  at  their  journey's 
end  in  scene  iv.  If  the  two  scenes  followed  each 
other  immediately  the  effect  would  be  unnatural.  This 
would  be  less  unnatural  on  the  modern  stage,  for 
there  would  probably  be  a  darkening  of  the  theater 


RICHARD  THE  THIRD  105 

for  a  moment,  a  change  of  scene,  etc.,  before  the 
resumption.  The  place  of  this  mechanical  interrup- 
tion is  taken  by  the  conventional  Elizabethan  division 
scene. 

III.  iv.  60.  We  already  know  that  Richard  will 
play  false  with  Hastings  if  Hastings  does  not  agree 
to  his  plans.  Richard  already  knows  the  position  of 
Hastings  when  the  former  leaves  the  stage  with  Buck- 
ingham. (Line  43.)  Now  they  are  returning.  What 
did  they  do  while  absent  in  conference  ? 

The  scene  that  follows  was  stupidly  conceived  and 
is  clumsily  carried  out.  Were  the  details  due  to  the 
suggestion  of  Buckingham  or  is  Richard  wholly  re- 
sponsible for  the  plot?  Richard  has  already  ex- 
pressed the  opinion  that  Buckingham  is  a  gull. 
Would  the  former  have  followed  the  latter's  sugges- 
tion as  to  such  a  clumsy  device?  If  it  is  due  to  Rich- 
ard himself,  consider  whether  it  is  natural  for  him 
to  plan  so  poorly,  or  whether  the  whole  thing  merely 
represents  Shakespeare's  inability  to  design  a  better 
form  to  the  matter.  Again,  is  it  possible  that  this 
clumsy,  ill-timed  act  is  what  first  suggests  to  Buck- 
ingham his  future  desertion  from  the  standard  of 
Richard?  He  may  here  begin  to  think  that  such  a 
man  is  not  a  safe  one  to  follow  further.  Yet  Buck- 
ingham goes  still  further  in  co-operation  with  Rich- 
ard. Or  did  Shakespeare  intentionally  plan  the  detail 
thus  to  emphasize  the  sweeping  power  of  Richard's 
personality  over  every  one — it  is  not  necessary  for 
him  to  be  careful. 

The  above  contradictory  and  inharmonious  list  of 
suggestions  is  introduced  partly  for  the  purpose  of 
illustrating  how  necessary  it  is  to  consider  all  possi- 


106  SHAKESPEARE 

ble  sides  of  a  situation  before  deciding  just  what  is 
the  real  effect  of  the  passage. 

III.  v.  5,  etc.  Note  how  suggestive  this  passage 
is  of  the  Elizabethan  manner  of  tragic  acting. 

III.  v.  47.  Here  and  elsewhere  in  the  play  the 
Lord  Mayor  is  a  gull,  a  mere  tool,  without  a  mind 
of  his  own,  blown  willingly  by  the  wind  here  and 
there.  Yet  there  is  no  reason  to  believe  that  Shake- 
speare intended  any  reflection  on  the  office  of  the  city 
magistrate.  The  Lord  Mayor  is  merely  one  of  those 
minor  characters  necessary  to  the  development  of  the 
plot.  His  character  is  not  worked  out  with  any  degree 
of  care. 

III.  vii.  240.  Richard  becomes  king.  This  is  the 
height  of  his  desire.  Almost  immediately  his  fortunes 
begin  to  decline.  This  may  be  looked  upon  as  the 
turning-point  of  the  play. 

The  student  should  observe  the  character  of  Richard 
carefully  throughout  the  remainder  of  the  play. 
There  is  no  apparent  difference  in  his  personality; 
but  Shakespeare  himself  seems  to  have  undergone  a 
change.  He  seems  to  be  taking  the  task  of  character 
presentation  more  seriously.  In  the  first  part  of  the 
play  Richard  seems  to  be  playing  at  being  wicked. 
His  jocose  remarks  imply  a  mere  game.  From  here 
on  he  is  seriously  wicked,  in  desperate  straits,  and 
thinking  carefully.  Note  also  how  similar  many 
points  in  his  subsequent  career  are  to  those  of  Mac- 
beth. For  instance,  Richard  is  no  sooner  king  than 
he  begins  to  fear  lest  he  shall  be  unable  to  maintain 
his  own.     (See  IV.  ii.) 

IV.  ii.  5.  So  far  Richard  has  waded  through  crime 
in  order  to  reach  the  throne.     He  has  been  wholly 


RICHARD  THE  THIRD  107 

intent  upon  the  needs  of  the  present  hour.  He  seems 
to  have  taken  no  thought  for  the  morrow.  But  now 
he  sees  that  he  has  only  just  begun.  The  most  des- 
perate chances  are  really  yet  before  him. 

IV.  ii.  24.  In  reading  below  relative  to  the  char- 
acter of  Buckingham  the  student  should  weigh  this 
passage  carefully.  Richard's  surprise  at  Bucking- 
ham's coldness  is  shared  by  the  audience.  So  far  he 
has  been  such  a  patient  tool  in  the  king's  hands  that 
his  present  opposition  is  altogether  unexpected.  And 
there  is  no  sufficient  reason  for  it.  One  possible  ex- 
planation is  suggested  in  connection  with  III.  iv.  60. 
Or  is  Buckingham  shrewd  enough  to  foresee  the  drift 
of  events,  and  is  preparing  to  desert?  Or  is  Buck- 
ingham, bad  as  he  is,  unwilling  to  go  quite  so  far? 

IV.  ii.  34.  It  hardly  seems  natural  for  the  king 
to  consult  a  lad  relative  to  the  choice  of  a  murderer, 
or  that  the  lad  would  have  one  ready  at  hand. 

IV.  iv.  425.  Note  the  similarity  of  the  preceding 
passage  to  I.  ii.  There  is,  however,  a  great  differ- 
ence. Instead  of  with  Anne,  Richard  is  here  dealing 
with  the  queen,  a  woman  of  the  world  who  is  not  to 
be  easily  taken  in  by  him.  She  has  already  made  her 
plans  for  the  future.  Her  seeming  agreement  with 
Richard  is  but  a  ruse  to  gain  time.  Line  431,  how- 
ever, shows  that  the  king  is  thoroughly  deceived.  Is 
the  audience  aware  of  the  true  situation  ? 

V.  iii.  The  history  play  was  popular  as  early  as 
1585;  and  it  reaches  the  crest  of  its  vogue  by  1600. 
During  this  period  we  find  a  steady  advance  in  the 
staging  of  battle  scenes  from  the  mere  crude  sugges- 
tion of  the  earlier  plays  to  the  elaborate  setting  of 
Henry  the  Fifth.     This  play  is  midway  in  the  prog- 


108  SHAKESPEARE 

ress.  The  present  scene  may  have  been  staged  as 
follows : 

The  middle  stage  is  bare,  with  possibly  the  stock 
drop  let  down  at  the  back  representing  the  open 
country.  Soldiers  come  in  and  pitch  Richard's  tent, 
say  on  the  right  side  of  the  stage.  This  must  be  a 
real  tent,  perhaps  only  half  a  tent.  At  any  rate, 
Richard  must  enter  it  and  be  seen  therein.  Later 
Richmond's  tent  is  pitched  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  stage.  These  tents  represent  the  opposing  camps. 
The  distance  between  them  must  be  fancied  great 
enough  to  embrace  the  intervening  territory. 

The  ghosts  subsequently  appear  on  the  upper  bal- 
cony. From  one  side  they  speak  to  Richard.  Then 
they  move  to  the  other  and  address  Richmond.  In 
these  few  steps  they  must  be  supposed  to  have 
traversed  a  considerable  distance.  Only  an  unim- 
aginative audience  would  be  disturbed  by  their  ability 
to  speak  thus  in  one  breath  to  two  leaders  so  widely 
separated  in  space. 

V.  iii.  236.  The  oration  to  the  soldiers.  Formal 
declamations  were  very  common  in  Elizabethan  plays. 
(See  a  further  discussion  of  the  subject  in  the  chapter 
devoted  to  Henry  the  Fifth.) 

V.    The  Character  of  Buckingham 

Suggestions  have  been  made  above  relative  to  the 
character  of  Richard.  On  the  whole,  however,  his 
character  is  easily  read,  and,  though  it  dominates  the 
play,  can  be  understood  with  little  or  no  difficulty. 
The  character  of  Buckingham,  however,  is  altogether 
different.     It  is  not  easy  to  understand.     He  does  not 


RICHARD  THE  THIRD  109 

seem  consistent.  This  defect,  however,  is  not  due  so 
much  to  an  intricate  mingling  of  qualities  as  to  Shake- 
speare's carelessness  and  crudeness  of  portrayal.  So 
much  attention  is  here  given  to  a  minor  character  for 
the  purpose  of  illustrating  the  precepts  regarding 
character  study  laid  down  in  Chapter  VIII. 

After  one  is  familiar  with  the  text  of  the  play  it 
is  well  to  review  consecutively  the  passages  in  which 
a  particular  person  appears. 

I.  iii.  288.  Margaret  addresses  Buckingham  as  if 
he  had  not  yet  cast  in  his  lot  with  Richard;  perhaps 
he  is  as  likely  as  the  others  to  be  misled  but  is  better 
worth  appealing  to  than  they. 

I.  iii.  328.  Richard  refers  to  Buckingham  as  a  gull. 
Attention  is  called  below  to  several  other  disparaging 
remarks  by  Richard.  They  all  hang  together  pretty 
well.  But  Richard's  actions  tell  a  different  story. 
He  would  hardly  trust  the  secrets  of  his  mind  and 
the  execution  of  his  dearest  plans  to  a  gull,  or  to 
one  whose  insurrection  he  considered  of  no  moment. 
Yet  he  does  throw  Buckingham  aside  as  if  he  were 
a  nonentity. 

Buckingham  is  often  made  up  on  the  stage  as  very 
youthful,  rather  effeminate,  and  altogether  like  an 
innocent.     Is  this  the  proper  way  to  represent  him? 

II.  i.  29.  Edward  calls  him  "  Princely  Bucking- 
ham "  and  seems  very  intent  upon  winning  his  promise 
of  subsequent  support.  Hence  he  must  be  consid- 
ered by  the  former  king  as  a  man  of  much  conse- 
quence. 

II.  i.  83.  The  significance  of  this  line  is  discussed 
above. 

II.  ii.  151.    Richard  calls  Buckingham  "his  other 


110  SHAKESPEARE 

self "  and  by  many  other  trustful  and  endearing 
terms.  There  is  the  sound  of  hollow  flattery  in  this 
speech;  yet  Richard  so  treats  him,  and  a  literal  inter- 
pretation is  quite  in  accordance  with  the  facts. 

II.  iv.  44.  A  messenger  calls  him  a  mighty  duke, 
and  associates  him  on  terms  of  equality  with  Glou- 
cester. 

III.  i.  151-180.  By  these  speeches  we  know  that 
Buckingham  is  the  partner  of  all  Richard's  plots, 
and  certainly  a  much  more  considerable  personage 
than  the  trusted  henchman  Catesby. 

III.  i.  193.  Buckingham  is  not  startled  by  Rich- 
ard's suggestion  of  chopping  off  the  refractory  Has- 
tings' head.  He  is  also  mercenary.  He  is  promised 
the  Earldom  of  Hereford.  The  refusal  to  grant  it  is 
the  ostensible  cause  of  his  desertion. 

III.  iv.  12,  13.  This  is  a  point-blank  lie  to  Buck* 
ingham's  credit. 

III.  v.  5,  etc.  Buckingham  orates  most  eloquently 
relative  to  his  ability  to  play  the  hypocrite.  And 
later  he  justifies  the  opinion.  In  his  dealings  with 
the  mayor  and  citizens  he  is  both  liar  and  hypocrite. 

IV.  ii.  22.  See  above  for  a  discussion  of  Buck- 
ingham's behavior  at  this  point.  He  has  suddenly 
become  "  all  ice." 

IV.  ii.  42.  Richard  calls  him  the  deep-revolving, 
witty  Buckingham.  This  is  the  only  place  where 
Richard  gives  him  credit  in  words  for  being  a  man 
of  parts;  yet  the  thoughtlessness  with  which  he  drops 
the  duke  implies  that  the  king  really  thought  of  him 
as  a  gull. 

IV.  iii.  50.  Richard  considers  Buckingham's  rebel- 
lion as  nothing  in  comparison  with  Richmond's. 


RICHARD  THE  THIRD  111 

IV.  iv.  332.  Richard  calls  him  dull-brained.  Com- 
pare this  with  "  deep-revolving  "  alluded  to  above. 

On  the  whole,  I  fancy  Buckingham  to  be  a  great 
and  powerful  duke  whose  aid  and  support  is  necessary 
to  Richard.  He  is  a  hypocrite,  a  liar,  hesitates  at 
nothing  that  is  criminal  so  long  as  it  tends  to  his  own 
interest.  When  he  sees  the  change  of  fortune  coming 
he  immediately  deserts,  but,  overestimating  his  own 
power,  is  easily  borne  down  to  the  ruin  he  deserves. 


CHAPTER  XI 
RICHARD  THE  SECOND 

I.    Relation  to  "  Edward  the   Second  " 

This  play  is  often  compared  to  Marlowe's  Edward 
the  Second,  and  it  merits  the  comparison.  Yet  it  is 
a  question  in  my  mind  whether  the  usual  implication 
of  the  comparison  is  correct.  For  to  me,  it  is  their 
differences  rather  than  their  similarities  that  are 
notable. 

A  rough  outline  of  the  two  plots  reveals  similar 
situations:  that  is,  a  weak  king,  one  who  is  unworthy 
of  respect,  deposed  for  inability,  and  succeeded  by  a 
more  kingly  monarch.  But  the  treatment  of  the  sub- 
ject in  the  two  plays  is  altogether  different.  In  the 
introduction  to  Richard  the  Third  it  was  pointed  out 
how  the  series  of  York  plays  were  objective,  follow- 
ing Marlowe,  that  is,  dealing  with  the  narrative  alone ; 
and  that  the  series  of  Lancaster  plays  were  subjec- 
tive, that  is,  more  concerned  with  the  inner  and 
deeper  meaning  of  historical  events.  This  is  Shake- 
speare's peculiarity  in  the  latter  part  of  the  series. 
Now  Edward  the  Second  is  of  the  former  kind.  So 
is  Richard  the  Third,  written  when  Shakespeare  was 
still  a  close  follower  of  Marlowe  and  his  methods. 
But  Richard  the  Second  belongs  to  the  latter  class, 
and  is  a  marked  departure  from  the  Marlowe  method. 
112 


RICHARD  THE  SECOND  113 

Nor  is  the  characterization  of  the  king  in  the  Mar- 
lowe vein.  Richard  the  Third  was,  like  Edward  the 
Second,  essentially  conceived  along  the  lines  of  Tam- 
burlaine  and  the  Jew  of  Malta.  Shakespeare's  Rich- 
ard the  Second,  however,  is  quite  unlike  these  prede- 
cessors in  the  drama.  He  is  not  a  type,  but  a  man, 
well  rounded  out,  with  human  qualities,  and  deserving 
of  human  sympathies. 

There  are  many  minor  differences,  however,  that 
need  not  be  referred  to  here.  The  above  remarks  are 
sufficient  to  suggest  the  true  situation,  and  the  actual 
difference.  The  similarity  of  the  two  plays  is  due 
to  the  accidental  resemblance  of  plot  and  is  essen- 
tially superficial.  The  differences  are  important  and 
of  vital  significance. 

Instead  of  being  an  additional  illustration  of 
Shakespeare's  debt  to  Marlowe,  I  consider  Richard 
the  Second  as  an  indication  of  Shakespeare's  breaking 
away  from  early  models,  perhaps  the  first  sounding 
note  of  his  future  independence.  It  is  the  first  play 
written  on  his  long  voyage  of  independent  travel. 

II.    Notes  on  the  Text 

In  the  following  notes  a  little  more  stress  is  laid 
than  usual  on  structural  points.  This  is  due  partly 
to  the  fact  that  this  is  the  most  symmetrically  con- 
structed of  the  three  history  plays  here  considered; 
and  partly  to  the  desire  to  illustrate  promptly  some 
of  the  suggestions  contained  in  Chapter  VII. 

The  theme  of  the  play  is  very  clearly  defined.  /* 
it  right  to  depose  an  unworthy  king?  Note  that  Mar- 
lowe '#  Edward  the  Second  is  the  story  of  how  an 


114  SHAKESPEARE 

unworthy  king  was  deposed.  This  play  goes  deeper 
into  things.  Richard  is  an  impossible  king.  He  ap- 
pears to  much  better  advantage  after  his  deposition, 
when  he  earns  our  sympathy  as  a  mere  man.  Shake- 
speare, however,  does  not  complete  the  situation 
which  he  has  here  begun  to  portray  till  the  end  of 
the  series  which  involves  both  parts  of  Henry  the 
Fourth  and  Henry  the  Fifth. 

This  play  is  of  the  two-hero  type  of  construction, 
the  most  perfect  example  of  which  is  Othello.  Boling- 
broke  and  King  Richard  are  the  two  opposites. 
Richard  is  the  action-producing  element  of  the  first 
half,  Bolingbroke  of  the  second.  The  absence  of 
Bolingbroke  from  the  time  of  his  banishment  till  his 
triumphal  return  is  a  crudity  of  structure  which 
Shakespeare  corrected  in  his  later  plays  modeled  upon 
this  style.  (See  Hamlet,  Othello,  and  Macbeth.  The 
last,  however,  contains  an  equally  gross  violation 
of  the  usual  rules  in  the  portions  that  relate  to  Mac- 
duff.) 

The  introduction  to  the  play  need  not  be  recapitu- 
lated here.  It  is  brought  in  naturally  throughout  the 
first  act  of  the  play,  much  of  it  in  the  second  scene. 
The  technical  beginning,  or  exciting  force,  is  Boling- 
broke's  charge  against  Mowbray.  It  is  referred  to 
at  once  in  the  opening  lines;  and  is  developed  fully 
in  the  first  and  third  scenes. 

In  weighing  the  relative  merits  of  Bolingbroke  and 
Mowbray  in  their  controversy,  and  the  character  of 
Bolingbroke  throughout,  the  modern  reader,  especially 
if  he  be  an  American,  should  bear  in  mind  the  follow- 
ing: King  Henry  the  Fifth  was  to  the  Elizabethans 
their  great  national  hero,  either  as  statesman,  general, 


RICHARD  THE  SECOND  115 

or  perfect  man.  He  was  a  sort  of  English  George 
Washington  and  Abraham  Lincoln  in  one.  So  de- 
voted were  the  people  to  his  memory  that  Shakespeare 
thought  it  necessary  to  forestall  adverse  criticism  of 
his  portrait  of  Prince  Hal  in  Henry  the  Fourth  by  a 
soliloquy  which  is  altogether  out  of  keeping  with  the 
character  of  the  person  who  speaks  it.  Now,  as  the 
Bolingbroke  of  this  play  is  the  father  of  Henry  the 
Fifth,  it  is  easy  to  fancy  that  he  appeared  before  an 
Elizabethan  audience  familiar  with  his  history  and 
prejudiced  in  his  favor.  Though  it  is  suggested  below 
that  neither  Bolingbroke  nor  Mowbray  appeared  to 
better  advantage  in  the  first  act,  it  is  probable  that 
Shakespeare's  audience  instinctively  sided  with 
Bolingbroke  and  gave  him  the  benefit  of  the  doubt. 
It  is  probably  due  to  this  national  prejudice  that 
Shakespeare  was  not  plainer-spoken  regarding  the 
right  and  wrong  of  Henry's  motives  on  his  return  to 
England.  His  guilt  or  innocence  in  this  respect  is 
delicately  answered,  but  in  the  later  plays,  and  then 
only  by  implication. 

I.  i.  What  is  King  Richard  like  in  this  scene? 
This  question  is  of  greater  importance  here  than  else- 
where, for  the  character  of  the  king  is  developed  by  a 
method  used  only  once  in  a  great  while  by  Shake- 
speare. In  fact  there  is  no  other  example  of  such  a 
great  departure  from  his  usual  method.  Shake- 
speare's usual  method  of  developing  character  is  to 
open  with  a  correct  but  incomplete  sketch  which  is 
later  filled  out  in  all  its  details.  This  is  true  of 
Richard  the  Third,  and  of  Hamlet,  Macbeth,  and 
Othello. 

Richard  the  Second,  however,  is  a  departure;  or 


116  SHAKESPEARE 

should  we  say  that  Shakespeare  had  not  yet  fully 
developed  his  method?  In  the  opening  scene  Richard 
appears  to  better  advantage  than  elsewhere.  Later 
his  weaknesses  are  set  forth  more  fully.  Still  later 
the  wicked  elements  of  his  character  appear.  And, 
last  of  all,  the  good  points  of  his  character  come  into 
prominence  after  he  has  ceased  to  be  king. 

Which  of  the  two,  Bolingbroke  or  Mowbray,  is 
right?  Is  there  any  possibility  of  their  both  being 
wrong?  (See  I.  i.  25.)  Does  the  king  know  which 
is  right?  Do  the  speeches  of  either  man  ring  truer 
than  those  of  the  other?  What  motive  could  there  be 
at  this  time  to  prompt  Henry  to  bring  a  false  accusa- 
tion against  Mowbray?  Does  he  later  desire  to  have 
Mowbray  come  before  him  to  substantiate  old  charges 
as  if  he  were  himself  troubled  with  a  guilty  con- 
science? The  answer  to  the  latter  question  depends 
largely  upon  the  fact  as  to  whether  Henry  knew  of 
the  death  of  Mowbray. 

I.  i.  100.  The  Duke  of  Gloucester's  death.  This 
charge  is  brought  up  emphatically  several  times  in 
the  play.  Does  it  turn  out  to  be  a  matter  of  any 
particular  importance?  Does  not  the  degree  of  em- 
phasis laid  upon  it  foreshadow  greater  significance 
in  the  remainder  of  the  play?  Is  the  truth  of  the 
charge  ever  proved  or  disproved? 

I.  ii.  Structurally,  this  is  a  division  scene.  Note 
also  the  emphasis  laid  again  on  Gloucester's  death. 
The  scene  contains  much  of  the  introductory  matter. 
And  it  serves  also  to  introduce  John  of  Gaunt. 

Though  Gaunt  appears  only  in  the  early  part,  he 
is  one  of  the  great  characters  of  the  play.  His  is  a 
splendid  personality,  perhaps  the  one  man  who  de- 


RICHARD  THE  SECOND  117 

serves  no  ill  feeling  throughout.  The  great  national 
awakening  of  the  decade  from  1585  to  1595  called  into 
being  first  a  national  curiosity  as  to  England's  past, 
and  then  a  true  spirit  of  patriotism.  The  catering 
to  the  demand  of  the  people  for  knowledge  regarding 
the  sources  of  these  two  widespread  emotions  brought 
into  existence  the  history  play.  In  this  drama,  Gaunt 
is  the  embodied  spirit  of  patriotism,  a  figurative  kind 
of  character,  almost  allegorical,  that  finds  its  fullest 
development  in  Henry  the  Fifth. 

I.  iii.  This  is  one  of  the  most  important  scenes  of 
the  play.  From  a  structural  point  of  view  it  repre- 
sents the  completion  of  the  exciting  force.  Note  how 
the  subsequent  events  are  related  to  this.  Boling- 
broke's  charge  against  Mowbray  brings  about  the 
trial  which  is  interrupted  at  the  command  of  the  king. 
As  a  result  he  banished  Bolingbroke.  Resulting  grief 
and  disappointment  hastens  the  death  of  Bolingbroke's 
father,  John  of  Gaunt.  The  absence  of  Gaunt's  heir 
prompts  Richard  to  seize  the  dead  duke's  property. 
As  a  result  of  this  act,  determination  to  win  back  his 
own  causes  Bolingbroke's  return  before  the  expira- 
tion of  his  period  of  banishment.  The  effort  to  estab- 
lish himself  as  Duke  of  Lancaster  leads  him  further, 
and  ends  in  the  overthrow  of  Richard. 

The  scene  also  contains  a  very  important  though 
partial  presentation  of  the  character  of  the  king.  As 
pointed  out  above,  Shakespeare  is  here,  contrary  to 
his  later  method,  developing  Richard's  character  grad- 
ually. Here  he  appears  to  disadvantage  through  his 
weakness,  but  hardly  as  actually  wicked.  The  char- 
acter information  is  all  bound  up  in  the  king's  reason 
for  stopping  the  combat.     If  we  turn  to  the  original 


118  SHAKESPEARE 

historical  source  we  learn  that  Richard  feared  an  out- 
break from  the  adherents  of  Lancaster,  and  that  he 
took  great  precautions  to  police  the  lists.  Fear  lest 
the  precautions  taken  should  prove  insufficient  prob- 
ably caused  him  to  stop  the  trial  at  the  critical  mo- 
ment. And  the  lighter  sentence  on  Bolingbroke,  to- 
gether with  the  reduction  of  his  banishment  from  ten 
years  to  six,  is  a  sop  to  the  faction  of  Gaunt.  This 
explanation  is  not  emphasized  in  the  text,  though  it 
must  have  been  in  Shakespeare's  mind,  and  he  may 
have  assumed  it  as  being  taken  for  granted  by  the 
audience. 

Note  the  appearance  of  the  following  list  of  char- 
acteristics of  the  king: 

1.  Lack  of  decision. — He  is  almost  unwilling  to 
pronounce  the  heavy  sentence  against  Norfolk.  The 
timid  king  seems  to  lack  the  courage  of  his  convic- 
tions. 

2.  Lack  of  personal  magnetism. — We  have  already 
noticed  in  scene  i.  that  he  has  no  control  over  Nor- 
folk, and  that  he  turns  Bolingbroke  over  to  his  fa- 
ther's management  as  if  quite  beyond  his  own  influ- 
ence. Here  he  also  fails  utterly  to  dominate  Norfolk, 
and  gives  in  to  Gaunt  merely  as  a  result  of  his  un- 
spoken behavior. 

3.  He  does  not  know  his  own  mind. — So  far  as 
we  know  the  king  has  acquired  no  new  information 
since  scene  i.  Any  reason  for  not  permitting  the  trial 
to  go  on  existed  when  he  arranged  it  at  first.  It  is 
possible,  however,  that  the  king  proceeded  in  the  mere 
hope  that  something  accidental  would  turn  up  to  stop 
it  without  his  own  decided  action. 

4.  Insincerity. — I.  iii.    125.    The  reason  the  king 


RICHARD  THE  SECOND  119 

gives  for  stopping  the  combat  is  not  the  true  one.  If 
it  were  he  would  have  urged  it  at  the  beginning  as  a 
reason  for  not  permitting  the  combat  to  take  place  at 
all.  (See  also  I.  iii.  184,  where  he  commanded 
Bolingbroke  and  Mowbray  never  to  reconcile  their 
differences.) 

5.  Cowardice. — The  king's  reason  for  stopping  the 
combat  is  fear  of  the  results.  In  those  days  people 
believed  in  the  just  and  righteous  outcome  of  such  a 
trial.  Physical  powers  had  nothing  to  do  with  such  a 
result.  It  makes  no  difference  whether  the  king  knew 
which  man  was  right.  If  Mowbray  won  it  might  set 
the  dissatisfied  party  of  Lancaster  into  active  opposi- 
tion against  the  crown.  If  Bolingbroke  won  it  would 
reflect  upon  the  past  behavior  of  the  king's  party, 
even  upon  the  king  himself.  No  matter  which  pre- 
vailed, the  king  would  be  in  a  dangerous  situation. 

6.  Vacillating. — Note  the  change  in  Bolingbroke's 
sentence. 

7.  Impracticable. — Notwithstanding  the  fact  that 
the  king  has  banished  both  combatants  he  lays  strict 
commands  upon  them  to  be  obeyed  in  absence,  as  if 
he  were  still  able  to  control  them  by  a  mere  word. 
They  must  not  communicate  with  each  other  or  recon- 
cile their  differences.  In  other  words,  the  king  ex- 
pects them  in  absence,  after  a  heavy  and  unjust  pen- 
alty, to  show  to  him  a  loyalty  that  he  could  not 
command  at  home  before  this  act  of  injustice. 

8.  Unjust. — So  far  as  we  know  there  is  no  reason- 
able proof  that  either  is  guilty.  There  is  no  justice 
for  either  sentence.  If,  however,  both  be  thought  par- 
tially guilty  of  misbehavior,  there  is  no  reason  for 
discrimination.     And  if  Bolingbroke  were  worthy  of 


120  SHAKESPEARE 

a  banishment  of  ten  years  there  is  no  justice  in  re- 
ducing it  to  six. 

Note  that  in  this  list  of  qualities  the  first  seven 
show  Richard  to  be  a  weak  man,  and  in  no  way  a  great 
leader.  Many  a  good  man  has  been  weak.  The  sit- 
uation is  to  be  lamented,  but  it  need  not  necessarily  be 
interpreted  to  his  moral  discredit.  The  eighth  quality 
of  injustice  is  a  little  more  defamatory.  Yet  it  would 
be  possible  to  fancy  that  his  very  weakness  forced 
him  into  this  line  of  action  against  his  will;  or,  at 
least,  not  altogether  of  his  own  aggressive  initiation. 
In  other  words,  this  scene  presents  the  disadvanta- 
geous qualities  of  the  king,  leaving  his  most  vicious 
characteristics  for  later  presentation. 

II.  i.  5.  It  was  a  common  superstition  of  the  time 
that  a  person  about  to  die,  on  the  borderland,  so  to 
speak,  between  life  and  death,  could  see  forward  into 
the  life  to  come.  Hence  the  words  of  dying  men  were 
listened  to  with  peculiar  respect  and  often  regarded 
as  prophetic.  The  fact  that  Richard  pays  no  atten- 
tion to  his  uncle's  words  at  this  time  is,  therefore,  more 
indicative  of  his  character  than  would  be  the  case  if 
Gaunt  were  not  at  death's  door. 

II.  i.  17-  According  to  York,  how  fully  Richard 
seems  to  be  given  up  to  the  influence  of  bad  advisers. 
(See  also  III.  ii.  130.)  Do  not  this  outbreak  of  the 
king  against  his  favorites,  and  the  hasty,  erroneous 
judgment  shown,  imply  very  plainly  that  the  king 
knew  their  bad  qualities  all  along?  If  so  he  deserves 
all  the  more  blame  for  the  national  adversity  they 
have  led  him  into  countenancing. 

Note  also  (line  31,  etc.)  the  patriotic  description 
of  England.     As  already  pointed  out,  Gaunt  repre- 


RICHARD  THE  SECOND  121 

sents  figuratively  the  newly  developing  patriotism  of 
the  Elizabethans.  Gaunt,  who,  throughout  his  whole 
life,  has  always  subordinated  the  interests  of  his  fam- 
ily to  the  interests  of  the  king,  is  now  near  death.  In 
the  clearer  vision  of  this  moment  he  discovers  that  love 
and  duty  to  England  is  a  greater  thing  than  even  a 
blind  devotion  to  the  king  and  his  interests.  The  king 
himself  owes  this  devotion  to  England  as  well  as  the 
meanest  subject  in  the  land.  And  the  upshot  of  it  all 
is  that  a  king  who  does  not  feel  this  patriotism  has  no 
right  to  continue  being  king. 

II.  i.  73-83.  In  Elizabethan  times  puns  were  not 
necessarily  considered  funny.  There  is  no  hint  of  wit 
or  humor  implied  in  this  passage.  (See  a  further 
discussion  of  this  matter  in  the  chapter  on  Mac- 
beth.) 

II.  i.  115,  139-  Shakespeare,  having  shown  Rich- 
ard to  fair  advantage  at  the  start,  then  as  weak  and 
flighty,  is  now  engaged  in  bringing  out  his  most  des- 
picable characteristics.  At  no  place  in  the  play  does 
he  appear  to  worse  advantage  than  here,  with  his 
brutal  disrespect  to  the  dying  Gaunt,  typified  by  the 
two  lines  cited  above. 

Richard  might  have  shown  some  grief,  or,  at  least, 
some  outward  respect,  when  he  hears  that  his  uncle, 
the  greatest  man  in  England,  is  dead.  But  he  shows 
joy,  rather  than  grief  (II.  i.  154),  and  absolutely  no 
respect  (II.  i.  160). 

Note  how  in  keeping  with  his  character  is  this  seiz- 
ure of  Gaunt's  property,  and  how  inevitably  the  fol- 
lowing events  grow  out  of  the  seizure  as  a  result  of 
the  law  of  cause  and  effect.  This  is  a  good  example  of 
the  interplay  of  character  and  plot  so  necessary  to 


122  SHAKESPEARE 

dramatic  effect.  (See  the  chapter  on  Dramatic 
Structure.) 

After  the  introduction  and  the  exciting  force  were 
introduced  in  act  I.  we  find  a  sort  of  pause  in  the  gen- 
eral swing  of  forward  motion  preparatory  to  the  great 
events  of  act  III.  In  the  second  act,  which  has  been 
spoken  of  as  structurally  transitional,  we  have  the 
plot  advanced,  a  good  deal  of  foreshadowing,  the  re- 
turn of  Bolingbroke  prepared  for,  and  the  bad  side  of 
the  king's  character  further  presented.  The  latter 
detail  is  completed  in  act  III.,  scene  ii.  Note  that  no 
event  in  this  act,  save  the  death  of  Gaunt  and  the 
seizure  of  his  property,  which  comes  first,  is  of  great 
spectacular  importance.  Yet  all  the  remainder  of  the 
act  taken  together  is  preparation  for  what  is  coming 
in  act  III.,  and  suggestions  as  to  what  it  will  be  like. 

The  character  of  York  should  be  noted  carefully. 
He  is  a  timeserver,  one  who  wishes  to  be  on  the  safe 
side  from  selfish  motives.  Yet  he  is  not  altogether 
bad.  He  is  usually  faithful  enough  for  the  time  be- 
ing, and  often  shows  better  impulses,  though  seldom 
able  to  live  up  to  them.  On  the  whole  York  fails  to 
win  our  sympathy  or  admiration. 

II.  i.  163.  It  means  a  good  deal  for  such  a  man 
to  express  himself  as  out  of  patience  with  the  behavior 
of  the  king.  Evidently  it  is  the  first  time  York  has 
ever  expressed  himself  thus.  See  the  startled  excla- 
mation of  the  king,  lines  169,  186.  Note  York's  re- 
marks to  the  king  relative  to  the  unjust  treatment  of 
Bolingbroke,  and  what  will  follow  such  a  course  of 
action;  and  compare  these  sentiments  with  what  he 
says  to  Bolingbroke  in  II.  iii.  In  this  latter  scene 
York  is  still  a  king's  man. 


RICHARD  THE  SECOND  123 

II.  i.  211.  When  the  king  reiterates  his  determina- 
tion to  seize  the  property  of  Gaunt,  York  replies,  "I'll 
not  be  by  the  while."  Thus  quickly  does  his  better 
impulse  to  opposition  wear  itself  out,  lest  like  treat- 
ment be  accorded  to  him.     (See  line  151.) 

II.  i.  246,  etc.  The  noblemen  give  a  long  list  of 
Richard's  misdeeds,  many  of  them  amounting  to 
crimes.  (See  line  277,  etc.)  In  their  conversation  the 
nobles  say  nothing  of  Bolingbroke's  return  to  claim 
his  own  rights.  On  the  other  hand,  line  292,  it  is  very 
plain  that  their  opposition  is  directed  against  the  king. 
They  deny  this  later.  We  should,  however,  take  their 
denial,  II.  iii.  148,  for  no  more  than  it  is  worth. 

II.  ii.  98-122.  York  here  is  much  excited  and 
muddled.  His  helplessness,  however,  is  not  so  much 
due  to  lack  of  ability  as  to  a  lack  of  knowledge  as  to 
what  it  is  best  for  him  to  do  for  himself  in  the  long 
run.  He  acknowledges  weighty  ties  both  to  the  king 
and  to  Bolingbroke.  It  would  be  worth  a  good  deal  to 
him  at  this  moment  to  know  which  side  to  espouse. 
He  elects  the  king's,  but  changes  as  soon  as  a  sight  of 
the  formidable  following  and  backing  of  Bolingbroke 
convinces  him  of  his  error. 

II.  iii.  71.  Bolingbroke  asserts  that  he  came  to 
England  only  to  reclaim  his  confiscated  rights  as  Duke 
of  Lancaster.  It  is  interesting  to  determine  whether 
he  is  here  telling  the  truth.  There  can  be  no  doubt 
but  that  the  nobles  rally  to  his  support  intending  in 
their  own  minds  to  make  him  king.  And  it  is  barely 
possible  that  they  have  deceived  Bolingbroke  in  this 
respect,  and  are  trusting  to  the  general  drift  of  cir- 
cumstances to  embolden  him  to  the  seizure  of  the 
crown.     As  a  matter  of  fact,  Shakespeare  leaves  the 


124  SHAKESPEARE 

honesty  or  dishonesty  of  Bolingbroke's  original  mo- 
tives an  open  question. 

II.  iii.  88.  York  calls  Bolingbroke  a  traitor.  Com- 
pare with  York's  sentiments  formerly  spoken  to  the 
king,  II.  i.  Does  the  use  of  the  word  traitor  imply 
that  York  believes  that  Bolingbroke  is  in  reality  fight- 
ing for  the  crown?  If  so,  what  light  does  it  shed  on 
the  character  significance  of  York's  desertion  from  the 
king's  party? 

II.  iii.  113-171.  Bolingbroke  insists  that  he  has 
come  to  England  only  to  claim  his  own  rights  as  Lan- 
caster. Northumberland  and  the  others  support  him 
in  this  assertion.  York  offers  no  objection  save  in 
line  152.  Does  he  mean  by  "  I  see  the  issue  of  these 
arms,"  to  say  "  Your  intentions  at  this  moment  may  be 
honest  enough,  but  I  see  where  this  opposition  will 
eventually  lead  you  "  ? 

Note,  however,  at  the  end  of  this  passage,  Boling- 
broke's determination  to  attack  Bushy,  Bagot,  and 
Green.  Is  this  an  act  in  the  pursuit  of  his  private 
interests?  And  in  III.  i.  does  he  not  order  their  ex- 
ecution as  dictatorially  as  if  he  were  already  king?  or 
counting  confidently  on  becoming  king? 

We  are  now  rapidly  approaching  the  structural 
turning-point  of  the  play — the  point  at  which  by  ab- 
dication Richard  gives  place  to  Bolingbroke. 

III.  ii.  The  function  of  this  scene  is  mainly  to 
justify  Bolingbroke's  seizure  of  the  crown.  This  jus- 
tification is  to  be  found  mainly  in  the  king's  utter  help- 
lessness in  an  emergency.  He  has  had  every  oppor- 
tunity in  the  past.  Now  that  the  time  and  opportunity 
to  do  something  has  come  his  mismanagement  of 
affairs  has  rendered  him  altogether  incapable.     Why 


RICHARD  THE  SECOND  125 

should  not  a  better  man  take  the  reins  of  government 
in  hand?  The  answer  to  this  question  implies  the 
total  effect  of  the  scene. 

The  wild  and  enthusiastic  joy  of  the  king  when  he 
sets  foot  on  English  ground  does  not  redound  much  to 
his  credit.  One  feels  that  there  is  a  superficial  senti- 
mentality about  the  expression  of  such  sentiments 
from  the  man  who  had  loved  England  so  little  that  he 
has  brought  it  to  the  point  of  ruin  through  his  selfish- 
ness and  wickedness.  The  declamation  is  mere  hol- 
low insincerity.  The  exhibition  of  outward  feeling 
here  expressed  is  in  no  way  in  keeping  with  Richard's 
past  actions.  He  has  done  his  best  to  bring  disaster 
upon  England  and  to  render  it  untenable,  both  for  him 
and  for  others. 

Even  his  own  people  condemn  him.  Carlisle  and 
Aumerle  consider  him  amiss  in  his  dilatory  dealing 
with  Bolingbroke,  line  33.  Again,  Aumerle  comments 
on  his  cowardly  pallor,  line  75,  and  finds  it  necessary 
to  remind  the  king  that  he  is  a  king,  line  82.  A  little 
later  when  Richard  is  wholly  given  up  to  his  mourn- 
ful wailing,  Carlisle,  his  devoted  friend,  utters  what 
is  the  strongest  charge  of  inability  brought  against 
the  king  in  the  whole  play :  namely,  "  Wise  men  ne'er 
sit  and  wail  their  woes,  But  presently  prevent  the 
ways  to  wail." 

III.  ii.  97.  The  king  apparently  jumps  to  the  con- 
clusion that  Bolingbroke  is  in  reality  aiming  at  the 
crown. 

During  all  this  scene  the  king  appears  to  the 
greatest  disadvantage.  He  is  up  and  down  in  spirits, 
speaking  grandiloquently  at  one  moment  when  danger 
seems  distant;  utterly  collapsing  the  next  when  it  ap- 


126  SHAKESPEARE 

pears  more  near  at  hand.  Not  once,  but  several  times, 
does  he  experience  this  transition  from  boastful  hope 
to  pallid  fear.  At  the  end  we  realize  that  he  is  in- 
capable of  offering  any  material  opposition.  All  his 
strength  lay  in  the  wicked  favorites  who  have  been 
executed  or  in  those  lukewarm  adherents  who  have 
deserted  him.  Bolingbroke  has  nothing  more  to  fear. 
After  this  scene  the  result  is  a  foregone  conclusion. 

III.  iii.  The  complicated  situation  of  this  scene 
requires  careful  analysis.  The  king,  having  given  up, 
practically  in  hiding,  believes  the  end  is  near  and  that 
the  all-powerful  Bolingbroke  has  come  to  seize  the 
crown.  York,  who  has  lately  deserted  the  king,  holds 
practically  the  same  belief.  Northumberland  and  the 
other  peers  are  determined  that  Bolingbroke  shall 
ascend  the  throne.  However,  they  do  not  yet  know  the 
absolute  weakness  of  the  king.  Hence  they  are  not 
quite  ready  to  come  out  into  the  open.  So  they  pre- 
tend to  support  Bolingbroke  only  in  his  position  of 
claiming  his  rights  as  the  Duke  of  Lancaster.  Boling- 
broke's  position,  on  the  other  hand,  is  not  quite  so 
clear.  He  may  be  at  one  with  the  barons,  or  he  may 
be  honestly  desirous  of  regaining  his  own  rights  and 
no  more. 

At  any  rate,  the  move  they  have  decided  upon  is  to 
lay  the  claim  for  the  full  restoration  of  Bolingbroke, 
offering  to  disband  their  army  if  this  is  granted.  They 
probably  expected  Richard  to  refuse  point-blank. 
Their  next  move  would  be  to  depose  Richard  for  this 
further  act  of  injustice,  and  then  proclaim  Henry 
king. 

But  in  a  moment  the  king  suddenly  upsets  all  their 
plans.     He  agrees  without  the  least  hesitation  to  all 


RICHARD  THE  SECOND  127 

terms.  Bolingbroke's  apparently  honest  expression 
of  satisfaction  rather  than  of  dismay  may  imply  his 
innocence,  or  it  may  merely  imply  good  acting.  To 
use  a  slang  phrase,  the  king  has  called  their  bluff. 
They  need  time  to  devise  a  way  out  of  the  situation. 

Note,  however,  that  the  king  himself  considers  them 
all  insincere.  He  believes  that  he  has  really  given  up 
his  crown,  that  he  accompanies  them  to  London  in 
actual  fact  as  a  prisoner.  In  the  next  scene  the 
gardener  not  only  takes  this  view  but  tells  us  that  the 
king  is  generally  considered  to  be  deposed.  And  in 
the  scene  next  following  Richard  is  called  upon  to 
acknowledge  publicly  what  is  assumed  as  already  to 
have  taken  place. 

So  I  should  consider  this  scene  as  equivalent  to  the 
virtual  abdication  of  the  king,  and  place  the  structural 
turning-point  here. 

Notice  how  promptly  in  the  next  act  Shakespeare 
begins  to  solicit  our  sympathy  for  the  deposed  mon- 
arch. None  of  his  good  points  appears  till  he  is 
robbed  of  the  position  and  the  power  which  served  to 
bring  out  only  the  worst  elements  of  his  character. 

Structurally  the  fourth  and  fifth  acts  are  less  sym- 
metrical than  the  first  three.  The  first  106  lines  con- 
stitute an  absolutely  irrelevant  scene.  From  106  to 
160  attention  is  taken  up  with  the  tirade  from  Carlisle 
that  results  in  nothing  save  his  subsequent  qualified 
forgiveness  by  Bolingbroke.  And  the  rest  of  the 
act  is  given  up  to  a  pitiful  example  of  harsh  treat- 
ment of  the  downfallen  ruler  which  serves,  however, 
to  rouse  the  sympathy  of  the  audience  for  him,  but 
which  has  no  plot  significance.  And  most  of  the  fifth 
act  is  taken  up  with  a  comedy  diversion. 


128  SHAKESPEARE 

It  is  well  to  note  that  in  several  cases  Shake- 
speare's plays  end  more  weakly  than  they  begin. 

IV.  i.  1-106.  See  a  former  note  relative  to  the 
frequent  reference  to  Gloucester's  death.  The  point  is 
made  very  emphatic  here.  And  nothing  comes  of  it. 
Even  the  dilemma  of  Aumerle  has  nothing  to  do  with 
the  dilemma  he  finds  himself  in  in  the  fifth  act.  The 
passage  is  dead  weight  to  the  progress  of  the  play. 
Possibly  it  was  meant  to  contrast  Henry's  behavior 
with  Richard's  in  a  similar  situation  at  the  opening  of 
the  play.  But  the  effect,  from  this  point  of  view,  is 
wasted,  for  Henry  immediately  drops  the  whole  mat- 
ter. The  day  of  trial,  referred  to  in  line  106,  never 
comes. 

IV.  i.  107-161.  Carlisle's  brilliant  speech  on  be- 
half of  the  king  results  only  in  his  arrest  for  high 
treason  by  Northumberland,  and  his  subsequent  for- 
giveness by  Bolingbroke. 

Nowhere  else  has  Shakespeare  treated  a  character 
as  he  has  treated  the  character  of  Richard.  The 
dramatist  has  begun  with  an  attractive  glimpse,  then 
the  character  of  the  king  was  gradually  debased  till 
our  sympathy  is  entirely  with  his  enemies.  Then 
Richard  is  slowly  but  surely  raised  in  our  estimation. 
This  latter  phase  is  developed  by  the  use  of  pathos. 

The  requisition  that  Richard  announce  publicly  all 
the  details  of  his  downfall,  even  to  the  point  of  ex- 
patiating on  his  own  deserts  and  praising  his  enemies, 
is  certainly  carrying  the  matter  too  far,  now  that 
Henry  has  gained  all  that  he  wants.  Even  he  is  at 
last  shamed  into  bidding  Northumberland  to  "  urge  it 
no  more." 

The  next  act  opens  with  the  queen  upon  the  stage. 


RICHARD  THE  SECOND  129 

Her  meeting  with  the  king  and  their  tender  parting 
brings  tears  to  the  eyes  of  those  who  a  moment  before 
were  willing  to  cry  "  Down  with  Richard."  Our  in- 
dignation is  justly  roused  when  we  are  told,  V.  ii., 
that  the  populace  on  the  day  of  coronation  "  threw 
dust  and  rubbish  on  King  Richard's  head."  There  is 
no  more  pathetic  touch  in  the  play  than  Richard's 
injured  pride  at  the  news  that  Roan  Barbary  was 
proud  to  be  beneath  his  new  master. 

V.  v.  1-66.  This  wild  rush  of  poetical  but  dis- 
connected fancies,  almost  incoherent  at  times,  repre- 
sents the  result  of  Richard's  constant  and  lonely 
brooding  over  his  change  of  fortune.  It  represents 
a  mind  on  the  very  point  of  collapse.  To  a  man  in 
such  a  state  we  can  render  nothing  but  sympathy. 
Then  he  suddenly  rises  to  a  display  of  energy  that 
would  have  made  him  a  better  king  had  it  been  rightly 
directed  from  the  start.  First  one  attendant  and  then 
another  falls  before  his  fierce  onslaught.  And,  at  our 
last  view  of  Richard,  we  feel,  with  Exton,  that  he  died 
"  as  full  of  valor  as  of  royal  blood." 

The  structural  end  of  this  play  comes  where  it 
should  come,  at  the  end.  It  is  the  entrance  of  Exton 
with  the  coffin  speaking  the  termination  of  the  tale, 
"  Great  king,  within  this  coffin  I  present  thy  buried 
fear."  It  is  said  above  that  before  the  end  of  the  play 
all  loose  threads,  etc.,  should  be  gathered  up  and  dis- 
posed of.  The  opening  lines  of  V.  iii.  are  a  reference 
to  the  escapades  of  Prince  Hal,  and  serve  to  bind  this 
play  to  Henry  the  Fourth.  So  also  does  the  pro- 
jected pilgrimage  to  the  Holy  Land,  mentioned  at  the 
close.  For  Henry  the  Fourth  opens  with  an  ex- 
planation  as  to  why  this  pilgrimage  was  not  made. 


130  SHAKESPEARE 

In  other  words,  these  two  details  serve  to  link  the  play 
to  the  next  in  the  series  rather  than  to  end  it  sharply 
and  with  finality. 

III.    The  Character  of  Bolingbroke 

It  is  hoped  that  in  a  subsequent  edition  of  this 
volume  room  will  be  found  for  a  treatment  of  both 
parts  of  Henry  the  Fourth,  as  they  assist  materi- 
ally in  understanding  the  character  of  Bolingbroke. 
It  has  been  pointed  out  above  that  the  interesting  de- 
tail of  Henry's  character  is  in  connection  with  the 
motives  that  actuated  his  return  to  England.  Was  he 
guilty  of  designs  upon  the  crown  from  the  very  start, 
or  was  he  forced  upon  the  throne  by  the  drift  of  cir- 
cumstances? Shakespeare  has  left  the  question  with- 
out an  answer  in  Richard  the  Second.  I  think, 
however,  that  a  careful  consideration  of  the  four  plays 
of  the  series  enables  us  to  determine  Shakespeare's 
position.     In  brief,  it  seems  to  be  as  follows : 

Bolingbroke,  in  absence,  was  aware  of  the  bad  con- 
ditions at  home,  saw  that  the  time  was  ripe  for  a  ris- 
ing against  the  crown,  and  awaited  only  a  pretext  that 
would  permit  him  to  place  himself  promptly  in  the 
limelight.  This  pretext  came  in  the  seizure  of  his 
rights  and  properties  as  Duke  of  Lancaster. 

Consider  for  a  moment  the  significance  of  the  char- 
acter of  Gaunt  as  outlined  earlier  in  the  chapter.  So 
long  as  only  personal  interests  were  at  stake  he  did 
what  seemed  right,  he  remained  subservient  to  the 
king.  But  when  the  good  of  England  was  at  stake 
he  turned  against  his  monarch.  This  is  Shakespeare's 
position  as  well  as  Gaunt's. 


RICHARD  THE  SECOND  131 

Now  apply  this  to  the  situation  of  Bolingbroke.  So 
far  as  he  is  actuated  by  selfish  motives  he  is  doing 
wrong  and  deserves  punishment.  But  he  was  a  good 
king  and  did  well  for  England,  and  for  this  he  de- 
serves reward. 

Shakespeare  always  observed  the  principle  of  nem- 
esis with  subtile  justice.  And  he  has  applied  it  here 
with  consummate  skill.  Henry  is  punished  by  remorse 
over  the  way  in  which  Exton  has  misinterpreted  his 
chance  remark  about  the  king,*  by  the  inability  to 
clear  his  conscience  by  a  pilgrimage,  by  the  rebellion 
of  the  north,  and  by  the  behavior  of  his  unthrifty 
son.  On  the  other  hand,  he  is  rewarded  by  eventual 
success,  by  peace  and  plenty  brought  to  England  dur- 
ing his  administration,  and,  eventually,  by  the  triumph 
of  his  house  in  the  magnificent  career  of  his  son, 
Henry  the  Fifth. 

IV.   The  Comedy  Element 

In  the  above  notes  on  the  text  of  the  play  the  sec- 
ond and  third  scenes  of  act  V.  have  been  passed  over 
almost  without  comment.  If  I  am  right,  their  proper 
interpretation  has  often  been  neglected.  They  fur- 
nish, in  fact,  the  comedy  element  of  the  play. 

Shakespeare's  plays  of  this  period  are  largely  ex- 
perimental. The  age  demanded  a  large  admixture  of 
the  comedy  element  with  the  tragic.  Shakespeare  ex- 
perimented as  to  the  best  place  to  put  it.  In  Rich- 
ard the  Third  it  is  practically  omitted.  In  Henry 
the  Fourth  two  stories,  one  serious,  the  other  comic, 

*  It  is  interesting  to  note  that  this  remorse  is  not  hinted 
at  in  the  chronicles.     It  is  Shakespeare's  addition. 


132  SHAKESPEARE 

are  told,  almost  independently,  and  introduced  in  al- 
ternate scenes.  In  Henry  the  Fifth  an  effort  is 
made  to  weave  the  comedy  into  the  body  of  the  story 
as  an  integral  part  of  it.  In  Richard  the  Second, 
however,  Shakespeare  adopted  still  a  different  device. 
He  waited  till  the  serious  part  of  the  play  was,  to  all 
intents  and  purposes,  ended ;  then  introduced  a  plenti- 
ful supply  of  comic  diversion  all  at  once. 

In  my  classes  I  have  frequently  met  students  who, 
on  a  superficial  examination,  have  failed  to  recognize 
the  farcical  nature  of  these  two  scenes.  Hence  a 
brief  suggestion  may  not  be  out  of  place. 

York,  throughout  the  play,  has  been  a  timeserver. 
In  these  two  scenes  he  is  drawn  as  a  caricature  of 
himself.  It  is  the  willing  reed  bent  by  a  sort  of  re- 
ductio-ad-absurdum  method  to  the  extreme  limit.  The 
very  nature  of  what  is  coming  is  foretold,  for  the  last 
line  of  act  IV.  promises  us  "  a  plot  shall  show  us  all 
a  merry  day."  There  is  something  ridiculous  in  the 
air  of  carelessness  of  an  arch-conspirator  who  goes 
about  with  his  bond  exposed  to  view. 

After  the  discovery  we  must  imagine  York  storming 
about,  "  roaring  as  gently  as  any  sucking  dove  "  and 
completely  overacting  the  part.  Then  appears  the 
equally  impetuous  duchess,  with  the  great  conspir- 
ator standing  by,  doing  nothing  but  twiddle  his  thumbs 
while  his  parents  wrangle.  And  at  regular  recurring 
intervals  comes  York's  imperious  slogan,  "  Bring  me 
my  boots." 

One  who  could  manage  to  escape  the  humor  of  the 
next  scene  could  easily  fail  to  see  its  possibilities. 
The  great  Henry  is  placid  in  the  face  of  danger. 
York,  Aumerle,  and  the  duchess  are  all  on  their  knees 


RICHARD  THE  SECOND  133 

before  him.  Both  the  elders  are  a  bit  too  stiff  in  their 
knees  to  rise  easily.  So  York  continues  to  clamor  for 
the  conviction  of  the  son  who  has  already  been  for- 
given ;  the  duchess  for  his  pardon,  not  knowing  that  he 
has  been  forgiven  even  before  her  entrance. 

Through  melodramatic  overacting  all  this  is  made 
delightfully  laughable.  Throughout  this  play  and 
both  parts  of  Henry  the  Fourth  the  king  is  painted 
as  a  grim,  stern  potentate,  quite  unlike  Prince  Hal  or 
Henry  the  Fifth.  Yet  even  Bolingbroke  is  overcome 
by  the  humorous  situation  and  exclaims,  line  79, 
"  Our  scene  is  altered  from  a  serious  thing." 


CHAPTER  XII 
HENRY  THE  FIFTH 

I.    Relation  to  Other  Plays 

There  is  a  difference  of  opinion  as  to  whether  the 
four  Lancaster  plays,  Richard  the  Second,  the  first 
and  second  parts  of  Henry  the  Fourth,  and  Henry  the 
Fifth,  should  be  considered  separately  or  together.  It 
has  already  been  pointed  out  how  the  closing  lines  of 
Richard  the  Second  link  the  play  to  Henry  the 
Fourth.  Both  parts  of  the  latter  play  are  quite  con- 
tinuous. There  are,  however,  reasons  for  looking  upon 
Henry  the  Fifth  as  a  separate  venture,  not  as  a  con- 
tinuation of  the  series. 

Both  Richard  the  Second  and  Henry  the  Fifth  dif- 
fer structurally  from  Henry  the  Fourth.  Hence  no 
structural  unity  in  the  series  is  to  be  discovered. 

Richard  the  Second  and  Henry  the  Fourth  conform 
to  the  description  of  a  history  play  given  in  Chapter 
X.  That  is,  they  aim  primarily  at  a  dramatization 
of  the  chronicle  in  such  a  manner  as  to  enlighten  the 
audience  regarding  the  historical  events  of  the  period 
under  consideration.  Now  Henry  the  Fifth  does  not 
do  this.  It  is  little  more  than  a  spectacular  dramati- 
zation of  the  Battle  of  Agincourt. 

Furthermore,  the  first  three  plays  mentioned  above 
are  thoroughly  dramatic,  full  of  action  and  interre- 
134 


HENRY  THE  FIFTH  135 

lation  of  parts.  Henry  the  Fifth,  on  the  other  hand, 
is  much  more  epic  in  character,  frequently  delayed  by 
long  patriotic  declamations,  and  requires  a  chorus  be- 
fore each  act,  a  detail  not  appearing  elsewhere  among 
the  plays  of  Shakespeare. 

These  differences  are  sufficient  to  support  the  con- 
tention that  Henry  the  Fifth,  in  spite  of  its  position 
in  the  historical  sequence,  is  an  entirely  independent 
play.  And  to  these  facts  may  be  added  another  of 
even  greater  significance. 

Consider  what  the  absence  of  Falstaff  means.  At 
the  close  of  the  second  part  of  Henry  the  Fourth 
Shakespeare  tells  us  that  he  already  has  the  play  of 
Henry  the  Fifth  under  consideration.  He  further 
tells  us  specifically  that  Falstaff  is  to  be  a  character 
in  it.  And  the  implication  is  that  the  fat  knight  will 
be  as  important  in  the  new  play  as  he  was  in  the  old. 

Shakespeare  postponed  the  writing  of  Henry  the 
Fifth  long  enough  to  produce  the  Merry  Wives  of 
Windsor.  Then  he  wrote  the  play  under  consideration 
according  to  a  plan,  and  of  a  tone,  that  precludes  the 
presence  of  Falstaff.  Evidently,  in  the  interim, 
Shakespeare's  conception  of  the  play  as  a  continuation 
of  the  series  had  undergone  such  a  change  that  he 
could  not  keep  the  promise  formerly  made  at  the 
conclusion  of  Henry  the  Fourth. 

The  play  also  bears  a  special  relation  to  Shake- 
speare's whole  career.  His  early  work  was  imitative. 
His  middle  work  independent  but  experimental.  This 
period  and  the  next  begins  with  Henry  the  Fifth. 
There  follows  the  period  of  maturity  in  which  he  pro- 
duced the  great  tragedies.  In  other  words,  Henry 
the  Fifth  looks  back  upon  the  history  plays  and  for- 


136  SHAKESPEARE 

ward  upon  the  tragedies.  The  sources  of  many  of  the 
tragedies  are  to  be  found  in  Holinshed,  whence  came 
the  material  for  the  history  plays. 

Now  the  history  plays,  as  pointed  out  above,  aimed 
to  instruct.  The  facts — that  is,  the  plot — must  be  in 
accordance  with  a  ready  found  account  and,  if  need  be, 
take  precedence  over  a  better  arrangement  from  the 
dramatic  point  of  view.  As  Shakespeare  matured,  this 
limitation  became  more  and  more  irksome.  When  he 
gave  up  history-play  writing  he  gave  up  this  limita- 
tion. He  would  henceforth  be  at  liberty  to  change, 
rearrange,  omit,  or  invent  at  will.  This  change  in 
procedure  is  equivalent  to  an  assertion  of  his  com- 
plete independence  of  models,  the  beginning  of  the 
full  development  of  his  own  individual  personality. 

Henry  the  Fifth  I  consider  to  be  the  first  play 
produced  in  accordance  with  this  change  of  method 
and  purpose. 

Later,  as  another  difference  between  this  play  and 
the  other  three,  will  be  pointed  out  the  irreconcilable 
inconsistency  between  the  character  of  Prince  Hal 
and  that  of  Henry  the  Fifth. 


II.    The  Conception  of  the  Play 

So  far  as  we  know,  Shakespeare  did  not  stop  writ- 
ing history  plays  because  the  field  had  been  covered. 
Nor  was  it  because  the  demand  for  them  was  waning 
— witness  his  own  popularity  as  a  producer  of  this 
kind  of  play.  It  was  rather  because,  as  has  already 
been  pointed  out,  the  type  demanded  a  close  adher- 
ence to  facts  already  laid  down.     This  condition  ham- 


HENRY  THE  FIFTH  137 

pered  his  maturing  genius,  his  developing  dramatic 
powers  began  to  demand  a  wider  scope. 

The  generally  experimental  nature  of  the  history 
plays  is  not  always  clearly  enough  recognized.  Shake- 
speare appears  in  the  three  parts  of  Henry  the  Sixth 
merely  as  a  reviser  and  polisher-up.  In  Richard  the 
Third  he  is  a  follower  of  Marlowe.  With  Richard  the 
Second  he  asserted  his  independence  of  Marlowe,  but 
not  of  the  history  play  as  a  type.  The  accidental 
plot  symmetry  of  this  play  is  due  to  the  exceptionally 
dramatic  nature  of  the  original  account.  In  Henry 
the  Fourth  the  dramatist  tried  the  experiment  of  the 
double  plot,  which,  rather  than  adding  to  his  prestige 
as  a  writer  of  history  plays,  made  him  famous  as  a 
comedy  writer. 

By  this  time,  Shakespeare,  as  suggested  above,  must 
have  decided  to  give  up  the  writing  of  history  plays. 
Of  the  four  plays  which  constitute  his  notable  contri- 
bution to  the  type,  the  first  presents  the  picture  of  a 
weak  and  worthless  king.  Shakespeare  resolved  to 
say  good-by  to  the  type  in  a  play  presenting  just  the 
opposite  kind  of  ruler. 

The  nature  of  the  chronicle  play  and  his  experi- 
ments with  it  showed  Shakespeare  that  dramatic  unity 
was  not  the  chief  quality  of  the  type.  He  therefore 
resolved  to  treat  the  whole  thing  in  a  new  way.  The 
new  play  was  to  be  epic  rather  than  dramatic  (an  ex- 
periment, however,  which  he  did  not  repeat).  He 
would  sing  the  glory  of  his  country.  To  do  this  he 
chose  one  man  and  one  event. 

Henry  the  Fifth  was  chosen  not  because  he  came 
after  Henry  the  Fourth,  whose  reign  had  just  been 
dramatized,  but  because  of  the  peculiar  attitude   of 


138  SHAKESPEARE 

the  Elizabethans  towards  him  and  Agincourt.  Henry 
the  Fifth  was  their  great  national  hero ;  and  Agincourt 
was  to  them  what  Waterloo  is  to  modern  Englishmen, 
or  Gettysburg  to  Americans. 

Shakespeare's  conception  of  the  play  is  twofold. 
It  involves  the  treatment  of  an  ideal  king,  and  also  the 
glory  of  England.  In  the  plan  adopted,  Henry  be- 
comes partly  allegorical.  At  times  he  is  a  man,  at 
other  times  he  is  England.  Thus  in  I.  ii.  275,  etc.,  he 
is  boasting  to  France  as  England.  From  279  on  he  is 
speaking  modestly  to  his  own  people  as  a  man  and 
their  king. 

Throughout  the  play  it  is  necessary  to  bear  in  mind 
its  twofold  significance.  It  is  constantly  alternating 
between  realism  and  allegory. 

III.     Notes  on  the  Text 

The  Elizabethan  dramatists  made  frequent  use  of 
the  prologue,  though  its  use  was  by  no  means  uni- 
versal. Shakespeare  resorted  to  it  sparingly;  and  in 
no  other  play  inserted  a  prologue  or  chorus  before 
every  act. 

The  prologue  was  put  to  a  number  of  uses.  Some- 
times it  served  merely  as  an  introductory  speech  re- 
questing the  favor  and  patience  of  the  audience. 
Again  it  would  explain  the  special  occasion  for  the 
production  of  the  play.  Thus  some  plays  have  a  pro- 
logue for  public  presentation  and  another  for  pro- 
duction at  the  court.  Again,  the  prologue  was  used 
to  apologize  for  the  inadequacy  of  the  stage  effects  at 
the  command  of  the  presenters.  Ben  Jonson  used  it 
frequently  to   air   his   precepts  regarding  stagecraft 


HENRY  THE  FIFTH  139 

and  literary  criticism.  But  perhaps  the  most  common 
use  of  the  prologue  was  to  forecast  the  substance  of 
the  play  or  to  give  a  synopsis  of  the  parts  omitted  in 
the  actual  presentation.  Several  of  these  functions 
are  illustrated  by  the  choruses  of  this  play.  Their 
special  significance,  however,  is  discussed  in  a  later 
section  of  this  chapter. 

Act  I.  Prologue.  The  Globe,  Shakespeare's  the- 
ater, was  round,  hence  the  allusion  to  it  as  a  cockpit 
and  a  wooden  O.  The  companies  in  that  day  were 
probably  much  smaller  than  theatrical  troupes  to-day, 
hence  an  army  would  be  represented  by  a  very  limited 
number  of  actors.  So  this  prologue  is  usually  cited 
by  critics  as  an  apology  for  the  crude  and  limited 
resources  at  Shakespeare's  command  for  the  presenta- 
tion of  stage  effects. 

I  am  inclined,  however,  to  take  a  different  view  of 
the  matter.  Consider  for  a  moment  the  actual  con- 
ditions. The  date  of  no  other  play  of  Shakespeare  is 
generally  accepted  within  such  narrow  limits  as  that 
of  Henry  the  Fifth.  If  produced  in  the  spring  of 
1599,  as  is  generally  supposed,  the  Globe  playhouse 
was  still  too  new  for  its  novelty  to  have  worn  off. 
Shakespeare's  company  was  the  leading  troupe  of 
London,  and  the  Globe  the  finest,  most  up-to-date  the- 
ater. With  such  resources  at  his  command  is  it 
likely  that  Shakespeare  would  take  a  humble  and 
apologetic  attitude,  rather  than  one  of  ostentatious 
pride  ? 

I  think  that  there  are  two  significations  to  this  pro- 
logue. As  pointed  out  in  the  section  devoted  to  the 
Elizabethan  staging  of  the  play,  it  may  be  that  a  spe- 
cial effort   is   made  to   produce   a   great   spectacular 


140  SHAKESPEARE 

effect  as  unusual  on  the  London  stage  of  that  day 
as  the  play  itself.  In  such  a  situation  the  opening 
apology,  soon  to  be  put  at  naught,  would  be  merely  a 
bit  of  rhetorical  irony. 

The  other  significance  of  the  prologue  may  be 
phrased  something  like  this:  "  Here  we  are,  the  best 
troupe  in  London,  with  the  best  playhouse  in  town, 
making  a  special  effort  to  do  credit  to  our  new  theater 
and  to  our  theme.  But  the  theme  is  so  great  that 
even  our  resources  are  utterly  and  absolutely  inad- 
equate to  do  justice  to  our  subject."  In  other  words, 
granted  the  unusual  resources  at  command,  every 
word  of  disparagement  is  a  word  enhancing  the  glory 
of  Henry  the  Fifth. 

I.  i.  24.  Canterbury  is  here  referring  to  the  early 
life  of  the  king,  fully  set  forth  in  the  two  parts  of 
Henry  the  Fourth. 

I.  i.  38.  Note  this  list  of  the  characteristics  and  ac- 
complishments of  the  king. 

I.  i.  64-69-  It  is  later  pointed  out  that  Prince 
Hal  is  a  different  sort  of  man  from  the  king. 
Henry  the  Fifth  is  not  merely  a  reformed  Prince 
Hal.  The  ordinary  way  of  accounting  for  the  change 
by  those  who  see  no  difficulty  in  reconciling  the  differ- 
ence, is  a  familiar,  every-day  occurrence  known  to 
every  one.  Yet  Ely  and  Canterbury  discuss  the 
change  and  give  its  explanation  up  as  inexplicable. 
In  their  opinion  it  can  only  be  explained  as  the  re- 
sult of  a  miracle.  Remembering,  as  already  pointed 
out,  Shakespeare's  change  of  conception  regarding 
the  play  as  a  whole,  is  not  this  passage  equivalent  to 
a  direct  hint  from  him  to  expect  a  different  person- 
ality in  the  king? 


HENRY  THE  FIFTH  141 

I.  ii.  33,  etc.  This  long  and  tedious  exposition  of 
the  Salic  law  is  a  passage  illustrative  of  the  instruc- 
tional element  of  the  history  play.  The  conception  of 
Henry  the  Fifth  as  set  forth  above  need  not  imply 
that  Shakespeare  broke  away  once  and  for  all  from 
every  detail  of  the  history-play  type.  It  merely  im- 
plies the  peculiar  qualities  of  the  type  have  given 
place  to  something  else.  We  even  find  reminiscences 
of  the  history-play  habit  very  marked  in  Julius 
Ccesar. 

Note  how  much  of  this  scene  is  essentially  undra- 
matic.  It  is  largely  a  patriotic  recitation  of  the  great 
deeds  England  has  done  and  will  do  again. 

II.  i.  Nym,  Bardolph,  Pistol,  and  Hostess  were 
familiar  to  Elizabethan  audiences  as  characters  of 
Henry  the  Fourth. 

II.  ii.  Note  the  undramatic  quality  of  this  whole 
scene.  Nothing  has  led  up  to  it.  It  produces  no  after 
effect,  no  new  step  in  the  action.  It  is  a  mere  episode 
in  Henry's  journey  to  France. 

It  may  be  asked,  Why  is  so  much  space  given  up  to 
it?  The  answer  is,  To  help  portray  the  character  of 
the  king.  Character  description,  so  far  as  it  is  neces- 
sary to  explain  or  account  for  action,  is  dramatic.  But 
such  disproportionate  attention  to  the  point  here  is  the 
justification  for  calling  the  scene  essentially  undra- 
matic. One  reason  why  the  play  is  so  undramatic  as 
a  whole  is  that  it  is  a  character  sketch  presented  on  a 
large  scale  rather  than  a  character  protrayal  by  a  con- 
tinuous action  produced  in  accordance  with  the  law  of 
cause  and  effect. 

1.  The  scene  contrasts  the  duplicity  of  the  traitors 
with  the  honesty  of  the  king. 


142  SHAKESPEARE 

2.  Henry's  leniency  is  shown  in  his  dealing  with 
the  condemned  soldier. 

3.  It  illustrates  the  king's  watchfulness,  which  has 
resulted  in  the  discovery  of  the  conspiracy. 

4.  It  shows  his  just  discrimination  in  forgiving 
the  soldier  and  in  punishing  the  conspirators  to  the 
full. 

5.  Henry's  sorrowful  pity  for  Lord  Scroop  re- 
minds us  of  Lincoln's  sympathy  for  his  erring  brothers 
of  the  South. 

6.  The  contrition  of  the  conspirators  is  a  tribute 
to  Henry's  greatness  of  character. 

7.  Henry  continues  his  journey  absolutely  undis- 
turbed by  such  a  momentous  danger. 

II.  iv.  48,  etc.  Note  throughout  the  play  the  con- 
trast between  Shakespeare's  contempt  of  the  French 
and  the  praise  of  Englishmen  often  put  into  the 
mouths  of  Frenchmen. 

III.  i.  This  is  one  of  the  finest  declamations  of  the 
play.  Inasmuch  as  it  incites  the  soldiers  to  hearty 
action  in  the  battle  it  may  be  looked  upon  as  the  only 
one  of  these  well-known  declamatory  passages  which 
is  truly  dramatic. 

III.  iv.  This  scene  is  translated  in  the  Tudor  Edi- 
tion of  Shakespeare's  Henry  the  Fifth.  The  trans- 
lation, however,  is  unnecessary  to  a  comprehension  of 
the  effect.  In  fact,  a  literal  knowledge  of  its  meaning 
in  a  way  destroys  its  purpose.  The  Elizabethans 
probably  understood  France  no  better  than  did  King 
Henry  himself.  When  Shakespeare  wrote  this  scene 
he  knew  very  well  that  the  Globe  audience  would 
understand  no  more  than  the  general  drift,  and  that 
they  would  not  clamor  for  an  interlinear  translation- 


HENRY  THE  FIFTH  143 

The  active,  energetic  pantomime  of  the  two  French- 
women together  with  the  strange  words  made  it  as 
funny  to  the  Elizabethans  as  a  similar  scene  in  a 
French  cafe  is  to  an  American  to-day  who  knows 
French  only  through  his  Baedeker  handbook. 

III.  vii.  The  purpose  of  this  scene  is  to  contrast 
the  frivolous,  over-confident  behavior  of  the  French- 
men before  the  battle,  with  the  sober,  God-fearing 
preparation  of  Henry's  army. 

IV.  i.  309-322.  Note  the  bearing  of  this  passage 
on  the  question  raised  in  the  discussion  of  Richard  the 
Second,  namely,  the  initial  guilt  of  Bolingbroke's  ac- 
quisition of  the  crown. 

IV.    Declamations  and  Choruses 

The  Elizabethan  generation  greatly  loved  declama- 
tions. Declamatory  exhibitions  and  contests  similar 
to  modern  oratorical  contests  and  debates  were  popu- 
lar. The  drama,  which  was  gradually  superseding 
most  forms  of  indoor  entertainments,  catered  to  this 
demand.  It  may  almost  be  said  that  the  drama  with- 
out some  sort  of  appeal  to  the  declamatory  instinct 
was  exceptional.  Irrelevant  declamations  were  often 
introduced,  much  as  popular  songs  are  introduced 
into  plays  to-day.  Shakespeare  resorted  to  irrelevant, 
or,  rather,  to  undramatic  declamations  at  all  periods 
of  his  career;  but  in  no  play  so  extensively  as  in 
Henry  the  Fifth. 

A  list  of  the  more  important  declamations  is  as 
follows.  If  read  over  consecutively  one  will  notice 
how  little  they  have  to  do  with  the  dramatic  quality 
of  the  play. 


144  SHAKESPEARE 

I.  ii.  183,  etc.  Canterbury's  long  oration  about  the 
state  of  man. 

II.  ii.  79.  Henry,  as  outraged  justice,  reproves 
the  traitors. 

III.  i.  The  only  spectacular  dramatic  declamation 
of  the  play  which  has  truly  dramatic  significance. 

IV.  i.  154.  Note  Henry's  reply  to  Williams.  It 
will  help  to  explain  Shakespeare's  idea  of  a  perfect 
king. 

IV.  i.  247.  This  splendid  declamation  is  usually 
referred  to  as  the  "  Sham  of  Ceremony  "  passage. 
Nowhere  does  Shakespeare  reach  a  higher  pitch  in  his 
poetry. 

IV.  iii.  118.  Henry's  reply  to  Westmoreland  about 
Saint  Crispin's  Day. 

V.  ii.  23.  Burgundy's  long  speech  about  the 
peace. 

These  declamations  are  nearly  all  epic  or  descrip- 
tive, and,  except  III.  i.,  lead  to  no  particular  dramatic 
action,  as  is  the  case  after  Antony's  speech  in  Julius 
Ccesar.  This,  like  III.  i.  above,  had  direct  dramatic 
significance.  Except  the  choruses  they  seldom  possess 
any  value  except  that  which  attaches  to  pleasant  dec- 
lamation. 

The  use  of  the  chorus  is  not  characteristic  of  Shake- 
speare. It  is  interesting  to  raise  the  question  as  to 
why  Shakespeare  used  the  chorus  here  and  nowhere 
else.  In  other  words,  What  part  do  they  play  in 
Henry    the   Fifth? 

Recall  what  is  said  above  regarding  prologues.  One 
is  instantly  reminded  of  three  points : 

1.  They  serve  slightly  to  apologize  for  the  poverty 
of  stage  effects.    This  is  especially  true  of  the  chorus 


HENRY  THE  FIFTH  145 

to  act  V.,  last  five  lines.     (See  the  discussion  above  of 
the  special  significance  of  the  chorus  to  act  I.) 

2.  They  serve  to  explain  missing  details  and  to 
bridge  gaps. 

3.  All  that  is  said  above  of  declamations  applies  to 
them. 

Yet  it  must  be  acknowledged  that  neither  nor  all 
of  these  uses  accounts  for  the  undue  emphasis  implied 
by  their  use. 

A  closer  study  reveals  three  other  and  far  more 
significant  qualities. 

1.  At  the  risk  of  repetition,  note  carefully  the 
character  of  the  first  chorus.  The  tone  of  apology  is 
not  so  much  for  the  poverty  of  the  Elizabethan  stage 
as  that  any  stage  is  inadequate  to  the  presentation  of 
so  vast  a  theme.  It  enhances  the  value  of  the  theme, 
and  its  magnitude,  as  employed  in  the  conception  of 
the  whole  play. 

2.  The  very  nature  of  the  theme  demands  con- 
tinuity. Now,  continuity  was  not  a  quality  of  the 
Elizabethan  drama.  To-day,  the  most  fitting  selec- 
tions of  music  for  the  orchestral  intermissions  would 
be  patriotic  airs  between  acts.  The  chorus  takes  the 
place  of  the  modern  but  usually  irrelevant  musical  in- 
terruption. 

3.  King  Henry  is  the  all  and  be-all  of  this  play. 
His  chief  characteristic  is  modesty.  A  modest  man 
cannot  boast  to  advantage  of  the  greatness  for  which 
he  stands  as  a  symbol.  Yet  the  carrying  out  of  the 
theme  requires  much  of  this  kind  of  eulogy  of  the 
king.  Most  of  it  is  put  into  the  mouth  of  the  chorus. 
In  fact,  it  constitutes  their  principal  value.  They  say 
what  cannot  well  be  said  by  others: — 1.  The  theme  is 


146  SHAKESPEARE 

too  vast.  2.  Eulogy  of  Henry.  3.  Magnificent  spec- 
tacle of  Henry  and  his  army.  4.  Eulogy  of  Henry. 
5.  Eulogy  of  Henry  expressed  by  the  clamorous  pub- 
lic joy  at  his  home-coming. 

V.    The  Character  of  Prince  Hal  and  op 
King  Henry 

Many  attempts  have  been  made  to  make  the  change 
of  character  from  Prince  Hal  to  Henry  the  Fifth 
seem  consistent.  To  my  mind  this  is  an  impossible 
task.  The  serious  side  of  Prince  Hal  is  perfunctory 
and  conventional — a  mere  bow  on  the  part  of  Shake- 
speare to  the  contemporary  feeling  towards  Henry 
the  Fifth.  The  real  character  of  the  prince  is  to  be 
found  in  the  Falstaff  scenes. 

Most  writers  have  tried  to  reconcile  the  two  char- 
acters on  the  ground  that  the  change  is  ethical.  If 
this  were  all,  they  might  have  saved  themselves  the 
trouble.  Every  day  we  see  about  us  sudden  and  com- 
plete reformation  of  morals.  If  this  were  the  only 
characteristic  of  the  change  we  should  accept  it  as  a 
mere  fact  and  require  no  further  explanation. 

That  this,  however,  is  not  the  character  of  the 
change,  is  implied  by  the  fact  that  Shakespeare  essays 
an  explanation  but  (through  the  mouth  of  Canter- 
bury) gives  it  up,  and  falls  back  upon  a  miracle  as 
the  cause. 

The  change  is  one  of  intellect  and  temperament,  not 
of  morals. 

Canterbury  dwells  upon  the  king's  intellectual 
powers,  a  quality  never  displayed  by  Prince  Hal. 
Henry's    reasoning    in    divinity    would    have    been 


HENRY  THE  FIFTH  147 

doubted  by  Falstaff.  Hal  showed  no  love  of  state- 
craft, nor  power  to  grasp  it.  Canterbury  goes  on  to 
tell  us  that  knowledge  of  war,  familiarity  and  con- 
viction regarding  a  theory  of  life,  were  impossible  to 
the  prince  but  characteristic  of  the  king.  Consider- 
ing his  past  career  it  is  impossible  to  imagine  him 
possessed  of  even  the  rudiments  of  such  things. 

Indeed,  between  the  intellect  of  Prince  Hal  and 
the  intellect  of  the  king  there  is  an  impassable  gulf. 
But  there  is  a  greater  "ifference  even  than  this.  It 
is  to  be  found  in  their  relative  sense  of  humor.  Hal 
is  full  of  humor,  quick-witted.  Henry,  on  the  other 
hand,  has  a  stolid,  well-balanced  mind,  but  no  sense 
of  humor.  Imagine  Prince  Hal  in  the  glove  episode, 
or  wooing  Katharine  in  a  foreign  tongue,  and  com- 
pare with  the  behavior  of  King  Henry.  It  is  not  that 
Henry  suppresses  his  boisterous  humor.  He  never 
had  any.  It  is  not  a  question  of  more  or  less  of  this 
or  that.  He  is  portrayed  as  an  altogether  different 
man. 

VI.    The  Character  of  the  King 

On  the  whole  the  character  of  the  king  is  so  evi- 
dently and  so  simply  set  forth  that  one  need  call  at- 
tention only  to  the  principal  points. 

His  simplicity  of  character  is  remarkable,  amount- 
ing almost  to  naivete.  Though  he  is  plain  and  out- 
spoken, and  on  terms  of  familiarity  with  his  soldiers 
he  always  preserves  his  dignity.  He  ardently  loves 
right  and  hates  wrong.  He  is  a  good  warrior  and 
carefully  solicitous  as  to  the  welfare  of  his  soldiers. 
His  persistency  is  of  the  bulldog  type.     He  is  modest 


148  SHAKESPEARE 

in  triumph,  and  evinces  a  wholesome  reverence,  and 
the  fear  of  God  is  inbred  in  his  whole  nature. 

Perhaps  his  most  prominent  characteristic  is  the 
latter.  At  the  close  of  Canterbury's  harangue  Henry 
expresses  his  fear  of  God  and  his  faith  in  Englishmen, 
who  in  reality  derive  their  only  strength  from  the  Al- 
mighty. He  believes  in  the  mediaeval  superstition 
which  preserves  a  sincere  faith  in  penance.  After  the 
Battle  of  Agincourt  he  insists  that  all  the  credit  and 
glory  belong  to  God  alone. 

His  homely  modesty  is  shown  in  many  ways. 
Throughout  he  is  boastful  only  to  France,  and  that 
when  he  is  speaking  rather  as  personified  England 
than  as  a  man.  But  he  is  humble  always  to  his  own 
people.  He  generously  enlarges  the  soldier  who  rails 
against  him,  excuses  the  fellow's  conduct,  and  advises 
mercy.  Thus  the  king  ever  shows  a  desire  to  forgive 
all  injuries  directed  against  himself.  "  Touching  our 
person,"  he  says,  "  we  seek  no  revenge."  But  he  is 
sternly  just  in  regard  to  injuries  against  the  state. 
He  claims  no  higher  title  than  to  be  called  a  soldier. 
Throughout  we  see  his  desire  to  put  himself  in  the 
position  of  his  subjects;  and  he  has  the  power  to  do  so. 

The  following  suggests  his  intellectual  difference 
from  Prince  Hal.  Like  Caesar's  Brutus  he  believes  in 
the  efficacy  of  reasons,  and  requires  a  full  explanation 
of  the  Salic  law,  which  he  thoughtfully  considers  be- 
fore acting.  He  evinces  an  instant  recognition  of  the 
stragetic  importance  of  Scotland.  Note  the  skill  with 
which  he  moralizes  on  the  ingratitude  of  traitors;  and 
note  also  "  the  sham  of  ceremony  passage  "  in  which 
he  dwells  in  a  masterly  manner  on  a  very  trite  idea. 
Note  also  how  he  goes  to  the  heart  of  the  matter  in 


HENRY  THE  FIFTH  149 

the  passage  beginning  "So  if  a  son  that  is  by  his 
father  sent."  How  quickly  he  is  able  to  see  the 
justice  of  Williams'  argument! 

His  lack  of  the  sense  of  humor  is  referred  to  above 
and  need  not  be  emphasized  here. 

Take  it  all  in  all,  Henry  is  the  plain,  simple,  sym- 
pathetic man  who  as  a  king  displays  the  same  qualities 
in  a  larger  field  and  on  a  grander  scale.  But  the  qual- 
ities do  not  alter.  Modesty  and  humility  increase  in 
proportion  to  his  exalted  position.  He  is  drawn  both 
as  a  man  and  as  a  personification.  As  a  personifica- 
tion of  the  perfect  king  he  represents  all  good,  manly 
qualities  turned  in  a  true  Christian  spirit  wholly  to 
the  service  of  his  people. 

VII.    Elizabethan  Stage  Conditions 

The  student  should  refer  to  Chapter  III.  before  ex- 
amining the  following  notes  regarding  the  Elizabethan 
staging  of  the  play. 

In  the  first  place,  consider  the  following  list  of 
scenes.  The  stage  directions  are  taken  from  the 
Tudor,  not  the  original  edition. 

Prologue — Chorus 1 

I.  i.       London,  Ante-chamber,  Palace     ...  2 

I.  ii.     The  Presence  Chamber 2 

Prologue 1 

II.  i.       London,  a  street 3 

II.  ii.      Southampton,  Council  chamber     ...  2 

II.  iii.    London,  before  a  tavern        ....  3 

II.  iv.     France,  the  King's  palace     ....  9 

Prologue 1 

III.  i.       France,  before  Harfleur        ....  4 

III.  ii.     The  same 4 


150  SHAKESPEARE 

III.  iii.  The  same,  before  the  gates  ....  4 

III.  iv.  The  French  king's  palace       ....  2 

III.  v.     The  same 2 

III.  vi.  The  English  camp  in  Picardy       ...  1 

III.  vii.  The  French  camp  near  Agincourt       .       .  1 
Prologue 1 

IV.  i.  The  English  camp  at  Agincourt  ...  5 

IV.  ii.     The  French  camp 5 

IV.  ii.      The  French  camp 5 

IV.  iv.     The  field  of  battle 5 

IV.  v.  Another  part  of  the  field       ....  5 

IV.  vi.  Another  part  of  the  field       .       .       .       .5 

IV.  vii.  Another  part  of  the  field       ....  5 

IV.  iii.     The  English  camp 5 

Prologue 1 

V.  i.      The  English  camp 5 

V.  ii.     France,  a  royal  palace 1 

Epilogue 1 

No  modern  presentation  of  the  play  could  very 
well  afford  to  provide  for  twenty-nine  changes  of 
scene.  The  task  of  the  stage  manager  would  be  to 
reduce  this  number  as  far  as  possible.  The  same  task 
appeared  before  the  stage  manager  in  Elizabethan 
times.  Let  us  apply  our  knowledge  of  the  stage  con- 
ditions of  that  time  and  see  what  could  have  been 
done  with  the  situation. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  play  the  transverse  cur- 
tains would  be  drawn  between  the  columns  supporting 
the  heavens.  At  the  moment  of  the  third  sounding  of 
the  bugle  the  curtains  would  be  parted  and  the  pro- 
logue appear.  This  would  happen  at  the  beginning 
of  each  act;  and  also  at  the  end  of  the  play  there  are 
two  scenes  where  this  arrangement  could  be  conven- 
iently used.     Let  us  call  this  setting  1. 

Doubtless   every   theater   possessed  the    necessary 


HENRY  THE  FIFTH  151 

paraphernalia  for  setting  up  a  stock  interior  before 
the  play  began.  This  would  doubtless  be  pressed  into 
service ;  in  the  background  a  drop  representing  panel- 
ing. What  is  perhaps  more  likely  is  that  the  back  of 
the  stage  was  so  decorated  that  in  its  normal  condition 
it  represented  and  looked  much  like  the  interior  of  a 
room.  Then  any  trifling  change  of  properties  would 
easily  suggest  "  another  room."  The  illusion,  how- 
ever, would  depend  much  upon  movable  properties 
in  the  form  of  furniture  and  hangings.  Any  one  who 
has  had  anything  to  do  with  staging  amateur  theatri- 
cals knows  that  it  is  a  comparatively  simple  task  to 
make  a  perfectly  satisfactory  representation  of  a  room 
without  resorting  to  much  scenery  or  carpentry.  Let 
us  call  this  interior  setting  2. 

After  speaking  the  prologue  the  traverse  is  with- 
drawn disclosing  the  interior.  Ely  and  Canterbury 
enter.  During  their  conversation  they  get  well  in 
front  of  the  traverse  and  to  one  side.  At  the  end  of 
the  scene,  at  the  words  "  Then  go  we  in,  to  know  his 
embassy,"  they  turn  and  start  towards  the  king  and 
his  followers,  who  are  just  entering.  Ely  and  Can- 
terbury slip  out  to  re-enter  a  moment  later.  This 
brief  change  of  position,  together  with  the  words  cited 
above,  would  be  sufficient  to  suggest  that  they  had 
passed  from  the  ante-chamber  to  the  presence  cham- 
ber. 

Next  to  an  interior  I  fancy  that  the  most  usual 
possession  of  a  theater  in  the  way  of  scenic  material 
was  a  painted  cloth  representing  a  street.  This  would 
be  let  down  from  a  roller  not  far  behind  the  tra- 
verse.    Call  it  setting  3. 

To  return:  at  the  end  of  scene  ii.  the  traverse  is 


152  SHAKESPEARE 

again  drawn.  While  the  prologue  is  speaking,  the 
street  scene  alluded  to  above  is  let  down.  At  the  end 
of  the  prologue  the  traverse  is  drawn.  Act  II., 
scene  i.,  is  performed  before  the  street  drop.  It  is 
then  raised,  disclosing  the  original  interior  used  for 
scene  ii.  Though  it  is  the  same  interior  used  in  act 
I.,  the  prologue  emphatically  says  that  it  represents 
a  room  at  Southampton.  Then  the  street  drop  is  again 
let  down  for  scene  iii.  and  raised  for  scene  iv.  Pos- 
sibly a  few  articles  of  French  furniture  have  been  in- 
troduced slightly  to  alter  the  general  appearance  of 
things.  The  drawing  the  traverse  marks  the  end 
of  the  act. 

Trivial  as  they  may  seem,  the  next  three  scenesv 
virtually,  however,  but  one  scene,  are  difficult  to  ac- 
count for.  It  is  hardly  possible  that  they  were  acted 
on  the  inner  stage,  for  this  would  require  the  re- 
moval of  the  interior  setting.  This  is  hardly  likely,  as 
this  set  is  needed  again.  The  upper  gallery  might  be 
pressed  into  service.  They  might  have  been  acted 
before  the  traverse,  as  the  prologue.  Or  another 
painted  cloth  may  have  been  let  down  representing 
some  sort  of  general  landscape.  Let  us  accept  the 
latter  suggestion  for  a  moment  and  call  it  setting  4. 
At  the  end  we  return  to  2  for  two  scenes.  Then  the 
traverse  is  drawn.  The  next  two  scenes  could  easily 
be  spoken  before  the  traverse. 

These  two  scenes,  together  with  the  chorus,  give 
plenty  of  time  for  any  change  of  scenery  on  the  inner 
stage.  The  interior,  which  is  not  needed  again,  is 
taken  away,  and  preparations  made  for  the  great  spec- 
tacular scene  of  the  play.  My  interpretation  of  the 
first  chorus,  the  newness  of  the  Globe  playhouse,  and 


HENRY  THE  FIFTH  153 

the  theatrical  prestige  Shakespeare's  company  was 
bound  to  maintain,  leads  me  to  infer — I  admit  that  it 
is  an  inference — that  at  this  point  a  special  effort 
was  made  to  produce  a  grand  spectacular  result. 
I  can  see  no  reason  to  believe  that  the  Eliza- 
bethans never  made  capital  out  of  something  dra- 
matically new.  Note  also  that  the  scene  suggested 
below  is  practically  in  continuous  use  till  the  end  of 
the  play. 

In  the  earlier  production  of  Elizabethan  plays  a 
multiple  setting  was  frequently  resorted  to.  In  this 
method  of  presentation  one  portion  of  the  stage  repre- 
sented one  locality,  another  part  another,  etc.  The 
position  of  the  actors  on  the  stage  determined  the  lo- 
cation of  the  scene,  all  being  visible  to  the  audience 
all  the  time. 

Let  us  see  how  Shakespeare's  manager  could  have 
carried  out  this  idea  in  designing  a  single  scene  on  a 
large  spectacular  scale  that  would  practically  furnish 
the  stage  for  the  remainder  of  the  play. 

Imagine  a  painted  cloth  let  down  at  the  back  on 
which  is  represented  the  open  country  of  France, 
with  numerous  tents  on  either  side,  disappearing  grad- 
ually in  the  diminishing  distance.  These  are  the 
camps  of  the  two  armies.  On  one  side  of  the  stage 
proper  are  several  tents  and  groups  of  soldiers.  Flags 
etc.,  indicate  that  they  are  English.  Entrance  from 
that  side  indicates  an  entrance  from  the  English  camp. 
Action  on  that  side  takes  place  in  the  English  camp. 
A  similar  representation  of  the  French  camp  is  ar- 
ranged on  the  other  side  of  the  stage.  The  space  be- 
tween represents  the  general  battleground  between 
the  two  camps.     Call  this  setting  5. 


154  SHAKESPEARE 

At  the  end  of  V.  i.  the  traverse  is  drawn.  V.  ii. 
and  the  epilogue  are  spoken  before  it. 

The  question  naturally  arises  as  to  the  reliability  of 
this  suggested  setting.  To  those  who  require  docu- 
mentary evidence  for  every  detail  accepted  regarding 
Elizabethan  stagecraft  it  will  not  appeal.  But  to 
those  who  possess  a  flavor  of  imagination  I  suggest 
the  following: 

1.  Every  theater  must  have  possessed  something 
in  the  way  of  stage  paraphernalia. 

2.  The  mode  of  presentation  suggested  above  re- 
quires two  painted  cloths,  the  usual  representation  of 
an  interior,  the  use  of  the  traverse,  and  one  spec- 
tacular scene  designed  to  bear  out  the  newly  aug- 
mented reputation  of  the  company's  theater. 

3.  Of  the  two  settings  of  the  inner  stage,  one 
remains  undisturbed  during  the  first  half  of  the  play. 
Then  it  is  removed  and  the  other  put  into  place,  in 
turn  remaining  undisturbed  throughout  the  remainder 
of  the  play. 

4.  Any  one  to-day  who  has  any  skill  in  the  adapta- 
tion of  a  crudely  constructed  stage  could  do  this  and 
more  with  only  amateur  help  at  his  command.  Is  it 
possible  that  the  ingenious  Elizabethans  did  not  do 
as  much?  My  only  feeling  is  that  I  have  underesti- 
mated the  scenic  attractiveness  of  the  Elizabethan 
production  of  Henry  the  Fifth, 


CHAPTER  XIII 
ROMEO  AND  JULIET 

I.    Introductory 

In  the  Tudor  Edition  of  this  play  the  editor  dis- 
cusses the  date  of  its  origin,  finally  assigning  it 
tentatively,  or  timidly,  perhaps,  to  1594  or  1595. 
Many  critics,  however,  believe  that  the  present  text  of 
the  play  is  the  result  of  a  revision  of  an  earlier  version 
much  of  which  still  remains.  In  connection  with  this 
point  of  view  two  dates  are  thought  of,  one  earlier  and 
the  other  later  than  that  suggested  above. 

At  any  rate,  parts  of  the  play  closely  resemble  in 
style  the  known  early  efforts  of  Shakespeare ;  and  the 
stylistic  qualities  of  other  parts  more  nearly  resemble 
the  poet's  style  of  a  later  date. 

There  are  several  other  points  to  be  considered. 
Though  a  beautiful  love  story  it  does  not  conform  to 
the  rules  of  dramatic  tragedy.  This  may  be  due  to  the 
fact  that  it  is  an  early  play,  written  before  Shake- 
speare acquired  that  technical  skill  which  character- 
izes his  later  work.  In  the  following  notes  another 
possibility  is  hinted  at;  namely,  that  the  play  was 
originally  written  as  a  tragi-comedy  and  at  a  later 
date  hastily  reconstructed  into  a  tragedy. 

It  will  also  be  noticed  that  in  many  of  the  parts  of 
the  play  which  show  evidences  of  early  style,  Romeo  is 

155 


156  SHAKESPEARE 

trivial  and  not  over-manly  in  his  behavior;  and  in  the 
parts  whose  style  resembles  that  of  a  later  date  Romeo 
is  a  far  worthier  lover  of  a  heroine  like  Juliet.  I 
venture  as  a  mere  suggestion  that  in  the  revision  of  the 
play  the  character  of  Juliet  was  completely  rewritten. 
This  necessitated  the  rewriting  of  many  of  the  Romeo 
parts  but  permitted  others  to  remain  unchanged. 

II.  Notes  on  the  Text 

Act  I.  Prologue.  This  is  a  sonnet,  a  characteristic 
of  Shakespeare's  early  style  in  which  he  resorted  to 
many  forms  of  verse  and  stanzas.  Note,  however, 
that  the  Elizabethans  seldom  made  use  of  the  familiar 
rhyme-scheme  of  the  sonnet.  The  sonnet  prologue 
appears  again  before  the  second  act.  But  there  are  no 
more  prologues  to  the  play. 

I.  i.  The  first  70  lines  of  this  scene  are  merely  low 
comedy.  Such  continuous  word-play  is  characteristic 
of  Shakespeare's  early  style.  Find  other  similar  pas- 
sages throughout  the  play. 

I.  i.  72.  Enter  Tybalt.  Though  Ben  Jonson  fre- 
quently named  characters  after  their  personal  qual- 
ities, Shakespeare  soo  1  gave  up  the  practice.  Tybalt 
means  tom-cat;  Benvolio,  good-fellow  or  peacemaker; 
Mercutio,  one  of  a  mercurial  disposition. 

I.  i.  90,  etc.  Earlier  blank  verse  was  more  con- 
ventional, more  sing-song,  fuller  of  pauses  at  the  end 
of  the  line  than  later  blank  verse.  Compare  this  pas- 
sage, written  in  the  earlier  style,  with  the  blank 
verse  of  the  balcony  scene.  Find  other  passages  that 
illustrate  both  the  earlier  and  the  later  forms  of  verse. 

I.  i.  121,  122.    Repetition  of  words  and  phrases  is 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  157 

resorted  to  oftener  in  this  play  than  in  any  other. 
Find  illustrations  throughout.  They  occur  from  first 
to  last,  but  usually  in  passages  that  have  other  ear- 
marks of  early  style. 

I.  i.  177.  Note  that  Romeo  is  much  of  a  punster  in 
those  scenes  which  are  written  in  the  earlier  style. 
This  quality  disappears  in  the  more  serious  portrayal 
of  the  hero. 

I.  i.  182,  etc.  This  coupling  of  opposites,  heavy 
lightness,  cold  fire,  etc.,  is  another  early  trait. 

By  the  end  of  this  scene  we  learn  that  Romeo  is  al- 
ready suffering  from  the  effects  of  unrequited  love. 
We  are  told  by  critics  that  this  is  the  most  likely  con- 
dition as  a  preliminary  to  love  at  first  sight,  and  that 
Shakespeare  here  displays  his  keen  knowledge  of 
human  nature.  However,  he  overlooked  the  situation 
in  regard  to  Juliet,  who  fell  in  love  with  equal  celerity. 
It  is  just  barely  possible  that  Shakespeare  introduced 
this  detail  of  Romeo's  past  merely  because  it  was  in 
the  original  version  of  the  story,  and  also  afforded  an 
excellent  opportunity  for  getting  started. 

I.  ii.  Compare  Capulet's  attitude  towards  Juliet, 
as  displayed  in  his  conversation  with  Paris  early  in 
this  scene,  with  his  actual  behavior  later.  How  is 
the  contrast  to  be  explained?  Is  he  insincere  at 
either  time? 

I.  iii.  Juliet  is  said  by  the  nurse  to  be  fourteen 
years  of  age.  Even  after  making  due  allowance  for 
the  earlier  maturity  of  southern  girls  in  olden  times 
Juliet  seems  to  be  more  than  fourteen  years  old.  This 
allusion  is  probably  a  remnant  of  the  earlier  version. 
In  the  revision,  Shakespeare  must  have  had  in  mind  a 
woman,  not  a  girl. 


158  SHAKESPEARE 

I.  iv.  2.  Apology  in  this  line,  Cupid  in  line  4,  with- 
out-book prologue  in  line  7,  etc.,  are  references  to 
masking,  a  popular  form  of  Elizabethan  entertain- 
ment. 

I.  iv.  53.  This  fairy  speech  by  Mercutio  may  be 
looked  upon  as  one  of  the  formal  declamations  so 
popular  in  Elizabethan  times.  Though  beautiful 
poetry  it  has  no  dramatic  significance. 

I.  iv.  106-113.  Evidences  or  indications  of  a  tragic 
conclusion  are  very  scarce  in  the  first  four  acts  of 
the  play.  Most  of  these  few  are  like  the  passage 
cited  above;  that  is,  they  could  have  easily  been  in- 
serted bodily  at  the  time  of  revision.  The  tragic  ele- 
ment of  this  play  is  accidental,  not  ingrained. 

II.  i.  In  the  setting  on  the  Elizabethan  stage  some 
provision  must  have  been  made  by  which  the  audi- 
ence could  see  both  Benvolio  and  Mercutio  on  one 
side,  and  Romeo  on  the  other.  Yet  Romeo,  who  was 
near  enough  to  hear  what  the  others  said,  was  invisi- 
ble to  them. 

II.  ii.  1.  The  antecedent  of  "  he  "  is  "  Mercutio." 
The  line  refers  to  his  jesting  of  a  previous   scene. 

II.  i.  This  so-called  "  balcony  scene  "  is  not  only 
one  of  the  most  beautifully  poetic  passages  of  the 
play  but  of  all  English  literature.  The  sentiment 
is  deep  and  rings  true,  without  the  least  approach 
to  sentimentality.  It  is  sufficient,  one  might  almost 
say,  to  wipe  out  of  existence  all  memory  of  the  crude 
touches  and  inconsistent  details  that  appear  else- 
where. 

But  there  is  more  to  the  balcony  scene  than  just 
this.  Heretofore,  love-scenes  and  love-making  on  the 
Elizabethan  stage  had  been  conventional  and  senti" 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  159 

mental  to  a  high  degree.  No  such  genuine  passage 
as  this  had  appeared  before  the  advent  of  Romeo  and 
Juliet.  It  is  easy  to  imagine,  perhaps  it  would  be 
more  truthful  to  say  it  is  difficult  to  imagine,  the  en- 
thusiasm of  the  contemporary  audience  at  the  first 
reception  of  this  brilliant  scene,  which,  as  after  events 
showed,  was  but  an  earnest  of  what  was  to  come. 

II.  ii.  63.  Recall  the  deadly  feud  between  the  two 
families.  Do  not  overlook  the  nerve  it  required  on 
the  part  of  Romeo  to  make  this  dangerous  entry  into 
the  garden  of  his  family  enemies.  Later  he  appears 
as  a  nerveless,  puling  nonentity  whom  even  the  nurse 
compares  to  a  foolish  woman.  This  scene  is  written 
in  Shakespeare's  later  style.  III.  iii.  is  written  in 
his  earlier  style. 

II.  iii.  Friar  Laurence  is  a  purely  conventional 
character.  It  is  not  necessary  to  study  his  personality 
analytically  or  to  take  too  seriously  his  copy-book 
phrases  of  philosophy. 

II.  iii.  90.  Note  that  Friar  Laurence  agrees  to 
marry  Romeo  and  Juliet  because  he  thinks  that  it 
will  bring  about  a  reconciliation  between  the  two  fam- 
ilies. Perhaps  this  reconciliation  was  intended  to 
come  about  in  the  earlier  version  of  the  play.  There 
are  other  evidences  of  it  that  will  be  later  pointed 
out.  The  actual  conclusion  of  the  preserlt  play  shows 
that  it  could  easily  have  been  accomplished. 

II.  iv.  222.  "  The  dog's  name."  That  is  a  growl, 
the  R  in  Romeo.  In  Elizabethan  pronunciation  it 
was  common  to  roll  the  r. 

III.  i.  65.  Note  the  peaceful  rejoinder  of  Romeo. 
The  audience  understands  the  ironical  significance  of 
his   remarks.      But   none   of  the   others   possess   this 


160  SHAKESPEARE 

clue.  What  ought  to  be  the  effect  upon  his  com- 
panions of  Romeo's  peaceful  demeanor?  Ought  they 
not  all  to  be  surprised,  and  his  partisans  chagrined? 
Yet  Mercutio  is  the  only  one  who  shows  such  emo- 
tion. Is  there  any  indication  in  this  reception  of  his 
attitude  that  this  is  the  kind  of  behavior  to  expect 
from  Romeo? 

III.  i.  127.  Compare  Romeo's  behavior  here  with 
his  behavior  earlier  in  the  scene,  in  the  balcony  scene, 
and  in  the  friar's  cell. 

III.  ii.  The  opening  speech  of  Juliet  certainly 
emanates  from  a  woman  older  than  fourteen.  And 
the  smooth  pliability  of  the  blank  verse  is  similar  to 
the  style  of  Shakespeare's  verse  of  a  date  later  than 
that  usually  assigned  to  the  first  draft  of  the  play. 

III.  ii.  45-50.  Note  the  repetition  of  I,  ay,  eye,  all 
pronounced  alike.  Note  throughout  the  play  the 
numerous  examples  of  excessive  repetition. 

III.  ii.  73.  Is  it  natural  for  Juliet  to  turn  so  sud- 
denly against  Romeo?  What  recalls  Juliet's  loyalty? 
(See  line  90.) 

III.  iii.  Note  the  repetition  of  banished  and  ban- 
ishment. 

Romeo's  behavior  in  this  scene  gives  no  evidence 
of  the  nerve  that  first  led  him  into  Capulet's  orchard, 
or  inspired  him  in  the  fight  with  Tybalt.  The  friar 
upbraids  him  for  his  weakness,  and  even  the  nurse 
upbraids  him  for  his  pusillanimity. 

III.  iii.  108.  Stage  direction.  Imagine  the  situation 
of  the  play  at  this  point.  The  nurse  is  the  typical 
comic  character  throughout.  There  is  an  element  of 
the  ludicrous  in  her  attempt  to  stop  Romeo  from  stab- 
bing himself.     One  can   in  this  situation  hardly   be 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  161 

seriously  affected  by  Romeo's  anguish.  In  his  rant- 
ing behavior  he  out-nurses  the  nurse  herself.  The 
two  of  them  together  would  be  able  to  make  a  capital 
comic  scene. 

On  the  other  hand,  this  vein  is  quite  inconsistent 
with  the  tone  and  tenor  of  a  serious  tragedy.  Is  the 
true  explanation  to  be  found  in  Shakespeare's  inabil- 
ity to  portray  Romeo  here  to  the  same  excellent  stand- 
ard reached  in  some  other  parts  of  the  play  ? 

There  is  a  third  suggestion  that  is  worth  a  mo- 
ment's consideration.  Mercutio  and  Tybalt,  it  is  true, 
have  both  been  killed.  Yet  they  are  minor  char- 
acters who,  though  attractive,  have  not  been  suffi- 
ciently prominent  to  thoroughly  grip  our  sympathy. 
Their  deaths,  Romeo's  banishment,  and  the  situation 
of  Juliet  constitute  just  the  sort  of  complication  char- 
acteristic of  a  tragi-comedy.  Were  the  earlier  play  of 
this  type,  just  here  is  where  the  resolution  would  be 
likely  to  begin.  That  it  is  expected  seems  to  be  very 
plainly  hinted  at  in  lines  150-155.  And  what  more 
likely  than  the  insertion  of  a  scene  in  a  lighter  vein 
just  at  the  turning-point! 

The  play  preserves  all  the  characteristics  of  a 
tragi-comedy  until  the  middle  of  the  last  act.  Later, 
allusion  will  be  made  to  the  sudden  and  artless  manner 
by  which  it  is  wrested  into  the  path  of  a  tragic  con- 
clusion. 

III.  v.  Contrast  the  general  tone  of  the  scene  with 
that  of  III.  iii.  Is  it  similar  or  different?  Is  the 
opening  similar  to  the  rest  in  this  respect? 

On  the  whole  I  find  this  a  very  puzzling  scene.  In 
the  first  place,  look  at  it  seriously  for  a  moment  as 
a  step  in  the  serious  development  of  a  tragedy.     Ju- 


162  SHAKESPEARE 

liet  is  secretly  married  to  the  banished  Romeo.  Her 
parents  wish  to  force  her  into  a  marriage  which  can 
be  prevented  only  by  the  disclosure  of  her  secret. 
Now,  is  this  situation  as  essentially  tragic  as  usually 
represented?  In  the  first  place,  Romeo  is  now  out 
of  the  Capulet  reach.  No  harm  can  come  to  him  by 
the  disclosure.  And  Juliet  could  hardly  be  subjected 
to  worse  treatment  than  is  threatened  by  her  father 
for  crossing  his  will.  Furthermore,  in  case  she  will 
not  marry  Paris  she  is  to  be  turned  into  the  streets 
and  left  to  her  own  devices.  What  more  could  she 
desire  with  a  husband  waiting,  and  a  willing  friar, 
for  a  go-between,  who  is  confident  that  it  will  all  turn 
out  well  in  the  end !  In  other  words,  the  high-spirited 
Juliet  could  have  acknowledged  her  lover  without 
injuring  him,  with  hardly  a  risk  of  making  her  own 
situation  worse  than  it  would  be  if  she  persisted  in 
her  refusal  to  marry  Paris  without  making  a  full 
acknowledgment,  and  the  possibility  of  righting  the 
whole  situation  in  the  end.  And  in  addition,  the  recon- 
ciliation at  the  end  of  the  play  is  due  wholly  to  the 
fact  that  the  parents  discovered  that  the  two  were 
lovers  and  married.  The  situation  in  all  of  its  details 
is  certainly  not  to  the  credit  of  Shakespeare's  powers 
of  invention  if  we  consider  it  seriously!  nor  does  it 
show  any  of  the  skill  displayed  by  him  a  few  years 
later  as  naturally  as  if  it  were  second  nature.  How- 
ever, it  must  be  remembered,  on  the  other  hand,  that 
a  few  years  makes  a  great  difference,  and  this  play 
was  written  before  the  culmination  of  Shakespeare's 
preparatory  period. 

On  the  other  hand,  suppose  this  to  be  a  scene  left 
over  from,   or  a   part  of,  an  original  tVagi-comedy. 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  163 

From  the  former  scene  the  audience  has  learned 
through  the  words  of  the  friar  that  a  reconciliation 
is  not  unlikely  to  take  place  when  the  truth  is  known. 
With  this  cue  the  audience  is  prepared  to  take  pleas- 
antly details  which  are  but  complications  on  the  sur- 
face. The  earlier  part  of  the  scene  contains  several 
remarks  from  Juliet  that  have  a  double  meaning. 
Their  wrong  interpretation  by  Lady  Capulet  must 
have  caused  a  smile,  to  say  the  least.  Then  comes 
Capulet,  who,  through  his  overexertion  in  the  matter 
of  abuse  becomes  almost  comic.  And  last,  the  ridicu- 
lously impossible  solution  of  the  whole  matter  sug- 
gested by  the  nurse.  And  the  scene  ends  by  Juliet's 
promise  to  return  to  Friar  Laurence,  the  one  who 
formerly  gave  the  pointed  intimation  that  the  play 
would  end  happily.  As  a  scene  of  this  intent  it  is 
much  better  conceived  and  carried  out  than  as  a  tragic 
scene. 

Though  I  do  not  wish  to  insist  on  the  inference  here 
suggested  relative  to  the  character  of  the  early  draft, 
I  should  like  to  point  out  that  parts,  like  this  scene, 
indicate  on  the  part  of  the  writer  greater  skill  in  the 
lighter  vein  than  in  the  tragic  vein;  and  that  it  was  | 
not  till  years  later  that  Shakespeare  excelled  in  the  / 
writing  of  tragedies.     The  question  remains,  if  such  I 
were  the  original  draft,  why  did  Shakespeare  change 
it.     Perhaps  the  play  was  a  failure.     It  must  have 
been  both  written  and  rewritten  during  Shakespeare's    , 
period  of  experimentation.     Perhaps  he  was  just  ex- 
perimenting with  tragedy,  which  he  had  not  attempted 
since  his  passable  but  not  excellent  Titus  Andronicus. 
And  the  carelessness  of  the  revision  is  quite  consistent 
with  his  methods  displayed  in  his  earlier  plays. 


164  SHAKESPEARE 

IV.  iii.  The  apparent  comedy  outcome  is  carried 
on  in  this  scene.  The  friar  suggests  a  perfectly  feasi- 
ble plan  which  will  solve  the  present  difficulty,  de- 
pendent only  upon  Juliet's  will  and  courage  to  carry 
it  out.  She  has  both,  and  departs  in  good  spirits. 
By  all  customary  standards  the  preparation  and  fore- 
shadowing of  the  scene  can  suggest  to  the  audience 
nothing  but  a  happy  resolution  at  the  end. 

IV.  iii.  10.  Note  that  Capulet's  stormy  scene  and 
Juliet's  refusal  to  marry  Paris  has  caused  no  inter- 
ruption in  Capulet's  plans  for  the  wedding. 

IV.  iii.  14.  There  has  been  nothing  said  or  done 
to  arouse  on  the  part  of  the  audience  any  distrust  of 
the  friar.  Nor  has  anything  occurred  to  justify  such 
a  thought  in  the  mind  of  Juliet.  Her  present  thoughts 
are  due  entirely  to  the  exigencies  of  the  present  mo- 
ment. The  audience  would  certainly  share  her  fears 
and  terrors,  for  it  is  a  courageous  and  mysterious  act 
she  is  about  to  perform.  But  the  sympathy  of  the 
audience  would  be  tempered  by  the  certainty  that  her 
fears  were  groundless. 

As  the  act  closes,  everything  seems  to  be  carrying 
out  the  friar's  plot  to  a  satisfactory  conclusion.  There 
is  as  yet  no  sign  of  the  coming  tragedy. 

At  the  opening  of  act  V.  we  find  that  Romeo  hears 
the  news  of  Juliet's  death  before  he  gets  the  friar's 
letter  explaining  that  it  is  a  sham.  Trouble  may 
come  of  this,  but  the  audience  does  not  expect  it: — 
for  two  reasons:  1.  The  passage  is  preceded  by  a  bit 
of  happy  foreshadowing.  2.  Romeo  postpones  killing 
himself  out  of  misery  till  he  gets  to  Juliet's  grave. 
There  is  every  chance  for  him  to  be  disillusioned  at 
this  point.     This  looks  very  like  a  device  to  make  his 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  165 

happiness  the  more  complete  as  it  is  the  more  un- 
expected. 

There  are  two  conditions  universally  acknowledged 
as  necessary  to  a  tragic  development  of  the  plot: — 1. 
The  story  and  its  development  should  be  incapable 
from  the  beginning  of  straying  from  the  path  that 
leads  to  a  tragic  conclusion.  2.  That  the  tragic  end- 
ing should  depend  upon  events  related  to  each  other 
by  the  law  of  cause  and  effect.  If  the  story  is 
plotted  in  defiance  of  either  of  these  rules  it  lacks 
excellence  to  just  that  extent. 

V.  ii.  4.  Here  we  find  the  first  step  or  detail  of  the 
tragic  conclusion.  The  fact  that  so  much  of  this  play 
could  be  discussed  as  above,  as  if  it  were  a  tragi- 
comedy, is  a  gross  violation  of  rule  1. 

The  failure  of  the  friar's  letter  to  reach  its  destina- 
tion is  an  equally  gross  violation  of  rule  2.  In  the 
first  place,  the  miscarriage  of  the  letter  is  due  to  the 
merest  accident.  Why  did  not  Brother  John  deliver 
the  letter  at  once  instead  of  getting  himself  quar- 
antined on  the  way?  If  one  explains  this  on  the 
ground  that  friars  had  to  travel  in  pairs,  and  that 
Brother  John  perforce  had  to  find  a  companion,  and 
was  as  likely  as  not  to  pick  up  one  with  a  contagious 
disease,  matters  are  not  much  bettered.  Why  did 
Laurence  send  John  at  all?  The  letter  by  all  indi- 
cations should  have  gone  by  Balthasar.  At  III.  iii. 
170  the  friar,  when  sending  Romeo  to  Mantua,  says 
that  he  will  use  Balthasar  to  carry  letters  to  Romeo. 
And  when  Balthasar  enters  (V.  i.  11)  Romeo  is  sur- 
prised that  his  man  does  not  bring  a  letter  from  Friar 
Laurence. 

In  other  words,  in  order  to  bring  about  a  tragic 


166  SHAKESPEARE 

conclusion,  Shakespeare  made  the  friar  drop  his  cus- 
tomary channel  of  communication,  which  would  inevi- 
tably have  prevented  the  final  catastrophe,  and  select 
another  messenger,  which  device  by  the  merest  acci- 
dent turns  a  good  comedy  ending  into  a  poor  tragic 
end. 

As  I  said  above,  it  is  a  mere  inference,  a  mere 
guess,  that  the  first  draft  of  this  play  was  in  reality 
a  tragi-comedy,  converted  by  a  hasty  revision  into 
a  tragedy.  Whether  this  is  true  or  not  is  a  matter  of 
no  considerable  importance.  I  have  used  this  idea 
merely  to  illustrate  the  fact  that  four  acts  of  Romeo 
and  Juliet  constitute  part  of  a  splendid  tragi-comedy, 
light-hearted,  joyous  in  spite  of  the  early  deaths  of 
Tybalt  and  Mercutio.  The  effect  of  the  play  with 
its  beautiful  poetry  would  have  been,  had  the  end  pre- 
pared for  been  written,  as  delightfully  pleasant  as 
a  Cymbeline  or  The  Tempest.  But  if,  from  the  nature 
'  of  its  end,  we  are  compelled  to  examine  it  as  a  tragedy, 
we  find  its  structure  bad,  the  invention  poor,  and  in 
no  way  deserving  to  rank  with  the  great  series  of 
tragedies  that  began  with  Julius  Ccesar. 

Scene  iii.  contains  the  tragic  conclusion.  In  this 
scene  the  audience  experiences  three  painful  and  un- 
expected shocks. 

1.  The  audience,  it  seems  to  me,  is  fully  prepared 
by  numerous  hints  for  a  happy  conclusion,  the  reso- 
lution which  does  not  come.  With  the  example  of  a 
fake  drug  administered  to  Juliet,  and  a  knowledge 
that  Friar  John  is  on  his  way  to  the  tomb,  or  soon 
will  be,  and  that  Juliet  is  about  to  awake — all  this 
taken  together  renders  the  actual  death  of  Romeo  like 
a  bolt  out  of  a  clear  sky. 


ROMEO  AND  JULIET  167 

2.  The  second  shock  is  due  to  the  death  of  Juliet, 
emphasized  by  the  fact  that  she  overslept  herself  by 
just  a  moment,  and  that  the  friar  was  also  late  by 
just  a  moment.  Had  Romeo  been  subjected  to  any 
little  delay,  accidental  in  nature,  such  as  seems  to 
have  overtaken  all  the  others,  the  day  would  still  have 
been  saved. 

3.  The  third  shock  is  the  fact  that  Friar  Lau- 
rence's prophecy  of  a  peaceable  reconciliation  (III. 
iii.  151)  was  true,  but  delayed  till  after  the  death  of 
Romeo  and  Juliet.  What  after  all  reconciled  the  two 
houses  of  Capulet  and  Montague?  It  was  not  the 
murder  of  Paris,  nor  the  death  of  the  lovers,  nor 
even  the  command  of  the  prince  which  had  been  inef- 
fective before,  but  a  knowledge  of  the  fact  that  Romeo 
and  Juliet  loved  each  other,  and  were  man  and  wife. 

Does  it  not  seem  as  if  the  final  result  would  have 
come  about  had  Juliet  courageously  disclosed  her  mar- 
riage when  Paris  was  first  urged  upon  her  ? 


CHAPTER  XIV 
THE  TAMING  OF  THE  SHREW 

I.    Introduction 

In  the  selection  of  plays  for  this  volume  I  have 
been  guided  by  the  student  and  his  needs.  There  are 
some  teachers  and  students  as  well  who  believe  that 
every  word  Shakespeare  wrote  or  uttered  was  in- 
spired, that  his  mere  ejaculation  of  Tweedledum  is 
capable  of  subtile  psychological  analysis.  The  Taming 
of  the  Shrerv  as  a  play  was,  easy  as  it  is  to  read  now, 
still  easier  to  the  Elizabethans;  but  it  is  easily  mis- 
understood to-day.  The  play  has  been  misconstrued 
both  by  critics  and  by  actors.  So  I  shall  suggest  with 
the  utmost  brevity  a  few  points  explanatory  of  the 
text ;  and  then  explain  the  real  significance  of  the  play, 
which  with  such  facility  escapes  the  attention  of  a 
modern  reader  unused  to  Elizabethan  conditions. 

II.    Notes  on  the  Text 

Title. — Only  female  hawks  were  used  in  hunting. 
They  were  proverbially  cross,  perverse,  and  stubborn, 
that  is,  curst.  The  word  "  taming  "  in  the  title  refers 
to  the  process  of  training  the  shrewish  hawks  into  a 
condition  of  obedience  suitable  for  the  chase. 

The  induction. — This  framework  serves  to  intro- 
duce the  play.  For  the  players  who  arrive  in  scene  i. 
168 


THE  TAMING  OF  THE  SHREW        169 

are  supposed  to  perform  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew 
for  the  benefit  of  Sly.  In  scene  ii.  he  appears  aloft, 
that  is,  in  the  upper  balcony  above  the  stage.  From 
this  vantage  point  he  views  the  start  of  the  play,  and 
makes  some  comments  at  the  end  of  scene  i.  Later, 
however,  he  simply  drops  out  of  consideration  by  dis- 
appearance. This  fact  implies  that  the  cutting  off 
of  the  upper  balcony  from  the  view  of  the  audience 
by  means  of  a  curtain  or  some  similar  device  was  pos- 
sible. Otherwise  there  would  be  the  need  of  some 
outward  means  of  ridding  the  stage  of  Sly. 

I.  i.  This  scene  and  the  next  introduce  the  ele- 
ments of  a  somewhat  complicated  plot.  Most  students 
find  it  difficult  at  first  reading  to  avoid  some  con- 
fusion. Note  how  rapidly,  almost  simultaneously,  the 
threads  of  the  story  are  introduced;  and  compare 
with  The  Merchant  of  Venice,  where  the  threads  of 
the  story  are  introduced  gradually,  one  at  a  time. 
However,  on  the  stage,  where  one  is  assisted  by  the 
eye,  the  confusion  encountered  in  reading  the  early 
part  of  the  play  nearly  disappears. 

It  will  be  a  help  to  the  student  to  analyze  the 
plot  carefully.  See  the  chapter  on  The  Tempest  for 
an  example. 

In  anticipation  of  the  third  section  of  this  chapter: 
— one  should  not  take  the  character  of  Katharine  or 
of  Petruchio  seriously.  Their  actions  should  not  be 
analyzed.  No  human  beings  ever  acted  like  this.  At 
any  rate,  no  Elizabethan  would  have  looked  at  them 
from  this  point  of  view,  or  have  been  distressed  by 
the  unnatural  excesses  of  their  behavior. 

II.  i.  278.  See  the  note  on  the  title  relative  to  the 
word  taming. 


170  SHAKESPEARE 

IV.  i.  191-210..  This  passage  is  full  of  the  tech- 
nical allusions  to  the  process  of  training  a  hawk  for 
the  chase.  In  the  first  place,  there  was  but  one  thing 
to  be  done  to  a  wild  hawk,  namely,  to  break  her 
wilful  spirit;  but  there  were  many  ways  in  which  it 
could  be  done.  One  was  to  keep  her  hungry  to  the 
verge  of  starvation,  tantalizing  her  with  the  sight  of 
food.  This  is  one  of  the  methods  resorted  to  at  a 
later  time  by  Petruchio.  Another  common  mode  of 
training  was  to  keep  the  hawk  awake  till  exhausted 
for  want  of  sleep.  The  Elizabethan  word  for  waking 
was  watching.  The  word  is  used  in  this  sense  in  the 
passage  cited  above — he  will  watch  (keep  her  awake) 
as  we  watch  these  kites.  The  word  is  similarly  used 
in  Othello,  where  Desdemona  says,  "  I'll  watch  him 
tame."  She  means  that  she  will  keep  Othello  awake, 
give  him  no  peace,  till  he  is  more  tractable.  Another 
even  more  cruel  procedure  consisted  in  sewing  up 
the  eyelids  of  the  hawk  for  a  time.  This  was  called 
seeling.     It  suggested  the  line  in  Othello, 

"To  seel  her  father's  eyes  up  close  as  oak." 

This  kind  of  cruelty  can  almost  be  forgiven  as  some- 
times a  necessary  step  in  the  training  of  a  falcon; 
but  it  is  painful  to  record  that  seeling  was  sometimes 
performed  by  Elizabethans  on  harmless  doves  for  the 
mere  sport  of  witnessing  their  frantic  and  helpless 
efforts  in  misery.  We  are  told  in  Sidney's  Arcadia, 
"  Now  she  brought  them  to  see  a  seeled  dove,  who, 
the  blinder  she  was,  the  higher  she  strove  to  reach." 
We  have,  however,  not  exhausted  the  allusions  to 
falconry  in  Petruchio's  speech.    "  I  have  a  way  to  man 


THE  TAMING  OF  THE  SHREW        171 

my  haggard,"  he  says.  "  To  man  "  was  the  technical 
term  for  gaining  the  mastery.  An  unmanned,  that  is, 
an  untrained  hawk,  was  called  a  haggard. 

"If  I  do  prove  her  haggard, 
Though  that  her  jesses  were  my  dear  heart  strings, 
I'd  whistle  her  off  and  let  her  down  the  wind 
To  prey  at  fortune." 

Thus,  in  his  suspicious  moment,  Othello  compares 
his  wife  to  a  haggard  hawk.  Oftentimes  a  hawk  that 
had  not  been  properly  trained  would  turn  aside  while 
in  pursuit  of  prey  in  order  to  follow  something  else. 
This  turning  aside  of  a  haggard  was  called  checking, 
and  is  referred  to  in  Marmion's  motto,  "  Who  checks 
at  me  to  death  is  dight."    And  in  the  words  of  Viola: 

"  To  do  that  well  craves  a  kind  of  wit: 
He  must  observe  their  moods  on  whom  he  jests, 
The  quality  of  the  persons  and  the  time, 
And,  like  the  haggard,  check  at  every  feather 
That  comes  before  his  eye." 

Until  the  hawk  had  learned  to  fly  properly  at  the 
game  she  was  constantly  reclaimed,  that  is,  drawn 
back  by  a  long  string  after  she  had  been  started. 
The  falcons  were  cared  for  and  trained  by  the  fal- 
coner and  his  assistants,  the  falconer's  boys.  When 
the  falcon  was  injured  in  the  hunt  it  was  the  fal- 
coner who  proceeded  to  imp  the  wing.  This  process 
of  mending  required  the  broken  wing  to  be  carefully 
trimmed,  and  the  feather  of  another  bird  matched  to 
the  broken  one.  The  hawk,  when  not  following  the 
game,  was  kept  covered  by  a  hood  that  completely 
blinded  her.  This  headdress  was  made  of  silk  or  of 
leather,  often  exceedingly  dainty  and  ornamental.     It 


172  SHAKESPEARE 

bore  upon  its  top  a  tuft  of  feathers  by  which  it  could 
be  easily  and  quickly  removed  when  it  was  desirable 
to  start  the  falcon  after  game. 

It  is  interesting  to  note  how  closely  Petruchio  in 
this  speech  has  outlined  the  process  of  taming,  not 
a  wife,  but  a  hawk,  and  how  closely  he  follows  out  the 
suggestion  in  practice. 

Note  how  this  process  is  carried  out.  In  IV.  iii. 
3,  etc.,  Katharine  alludes  to  the  fact  that  she  is  being 
famished.  In  the  conversation  that  follows,  Grumio, 
evidently  at  the  command  of  his  master,  is  tantalizing 
Katharine  with  the  idea  of  delicious  food  just  as  an 
untrained  hawk  was  tantalized.  And  Petruchio  con- 
tinues the  idea  by  sending  away  the  food  just  as 
Katharine  is  about  to  eat  it.  The  same  tantalizing 
methods  are  kept  up  in  the  dealings  with  the  tailor, 
the  haberdasher,  etc. 

Such  treatment  of  a  hawk  was  kept  up  till  the 
hawk  was  absolutely  tractable.  So  IV.  v.  portrays 
Katharine  as  entirely  docile.  In  other  words,  The 
Taming  of  the  Shrew  is  complete,  and  there  remains 
nothing  but  to  give  an  exhibition  of  the  effect  at  the 
end  of  the  play. 

III.    The  Significance  of  the  Play 

In  section  one  I  suggested  that,  but  for  one  point, 
this  play  is  so  easy  to  read  as  to  render  its  study  al- 
most unnecessary.  And  in  the  few  notes  above  I 
have  referred  practically  to  only  such  points  as  refer 
to  this  one  point. 

It  is  a  mistake  to  take  the  play  seriously,  to  fancy 
that  Petruchio  has  developed  a  scheme  by  which  a 


THE  TAMING  OF  THE  SHREW        173 

cross  woman  may  be  brought  into  a  docile  state  of 
obedience.  Neither  his  method  nor  the  results  are  at 
all  to  be  desired  in  this  world.  And  he  who  goes  at 
the  play  from  this  point  of  view,  who  tries  to  imagine 
such  characters,  and  to  justify  the  acts  of  Petruchio 
and  the  results  as  exemplified  by  the  final  behavior 
of  Katharine  is  but  laying  himself  open  to  ridicule. 

In  reality  Shakespeare  is  telling  a  sort  of  fairy 
story.  His  audience  were  as  familiar  with  all  the 
details  of  falconry  as  we  are  with  the  details  of  foot- 
ball or  of  baseball.  He  knew  that  his  people  would 
catch  the  cue  from  the  very  title.  They  would  under- 
stand that  there  was  here  a  mere  translation  into 
facetious  human  terms  of  the  process  of  training  a 
hawk.  One  who  is  altogether  unfamiliar  with  the 
game  of  chess  misses  the  delightful  adventures  of  Alice 
with  the  White  Knight.  So  one  who  is  unfamiliar 
with  the  game  of  falconry  misses  the  whole  point  of 
The  Taming  of  the  Shrew.  Petruchio  and  Katharine 
are  not  human  beings;  they  are  the  falconer  and  his 
haggard  hawk.  In  a  fairy-story  way  they  represent 
the  process  of  training  that  was  so  familiar  to  all 
the  Elizabethans  in  the  audience.  It  was  far  from 
them,  or  from  Shakespeare's  conception — this  analysis 
of  the  principal  characters  from  the  human  stand- 
point. One  would  as  soon  present  a  medical  ex- 
planation of  the  crooked  gait  of  Alice's  White  Knight. 


CHAPTER  XV 
THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE 

I.    Notes  on  the  Text 

Read  the  play  rapidly,  noting  in  a  general  way  the 
complicated  story,  and  the  interlinking  of  the  threads 
of  the  plot.  Also  the  supplementary  nature  of  the 
fifth  act.  Make  an  outline  scene  by  scene  of  the  nar- 
rative. 

Read  the  play  again  more  carefully,  performing 
such  tasks  as  are  suggested  in  Chapter  VIII.  Also 
attend  to  the  following  points  in  the  text. 

At  the  opening  of  the  play  Antonio  appears  de- 
pressed in  spirits  without  a  knowledge  of  why  or 
wherefore.  This  is  a  literary  device  used  in  order 
to  strike  at  the  outset  the  tone  of  the  story  of  Antonio, 
which  is  serious  almost  to  the  point  of  tragedy,  but 
not  beyond  the  possibility  of  a  happy  ending.  An- 
tonio is  unaware  of  the  cause  of  his  depression,  be- 
cause nothing  has  really  happened  to  account  for  it. 
This  absence  of  a  cause  suggests  that  the  result  will 
not  be  so  serious  in  the  end.  Shakespeare  is  careful 
to  keep  the  attention  of  the  audience  forward  towards 
later  developments.  Lest  the  audience  should  infer 
too  serious  an  outcome,  the  light-heartedness  of 
Antonio's  companions  serves  as  a  corrective,  at  the 
same  time  leading  up  to   the   delightfully  care-free 

174 


THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE         175 

beginning  of  the  Portia  story  in  scene  ii.  Her  thread 
of  the  story  is  all  joyous.  The  audience  must  be  far 
from  the  serious  suggestion  at  the  beginning.  Note 
that  both  scenes  begin  with  similar  expressions. 
Portia  is  also  weary  of  the  world,  but  her  body  is 
not  little.  The  whole  speech  is  belied  by  her  manner 
of  acting,  hence  the  heightened  contrast  with  the 
words  of  Antonio,  who  is  sincere. 

Try  to  place  the  best  positions  on  the  stage  for 
those  who  enter  throughout  the  act. 

In  scene  i.  Salarino  speaks  much  more  than  Salanio. 
Is  this  relative  importance  kept  up  throughout  the 
play?     Which  part  requires  the  better  actor? 

At  the  entrance  of  Antonio's  friends  their  names 
are  all  mentioned.  This  serves  to  introduce  them  to 
the  audience.  How  frequently  is  this  device  used? 
Is  it  used  more  in  the  earlier  parts  of  the  play? 

Notice  the  long  speech  of  Gratiano  beginning,  "  Let 
me  play  the  fool."  It  serves  to  describe  his  char- 
acter. It  is  also  a  defense  of  frivolity.  This  passage 
needs  some  accounting  for.  It  would  hardly  be  con- 
sidered dramatic  unless  Gratiano's  character  is  im- 
portant enough  to  demand  it.  Is  it?  But  there  is 
a  more  important  use  for  it.  It  is  a  formal  piece  of 
declamation.  The  Elizabethans  were  very  fond  of 
declamations  to  be  spoken  from  the  front  of  the  stage 
irrespective  of  their  lack  of  dramatic  significance — 
speeches  with  which  we  associate  The  Seven  Ages 
of  Man,  The  Death  of  Ophelia,  Cleopatra's  Barge, 
etc.     (See  the  chapter  on  Henry  the  Fifth.) 

Note  how  much  the  remainder  of  the  scene  con- 
tains that  is  useful  in  subsequent  portions  of  the  play : 
1.  The  beginning  of  the  story  to  raise  money;  2.  The 


176  SHAKESPEARE 

character  of  Bassanio;  3.  The  friendship  of  Bassanio 
and  Antonio;  4.  Description  of  Portia. 

In  scene  ii.  we  are  introduced  to  Portia  and  Nerissa. 
The  parts  should  be  taken  by  actresses  of  very  dif- 
ferent personalities.  Why?  What  hints  are  con- 
tained in  the  text  that  would  help  one  to  cast  these 
parts  ? 

This  scene  is  illustrative  of  a  kind  of  passage  that 
has  to  a  great  extent  lost  its  interest  to  people  of  our 
day  and  generation.  Many  of  the  remarks  of  Portia 
are  allusions  better  understood  then  than  now.  Many 
of  the  most  popular  Elizabethan  horses  were  of  Ne- 
apolitan breed;  hence  there  is  point  in  comparing  the 
Neapolitan  prince  to  a  colt.  The  satires  of  the  time 
abound  in  slurs  upon  the  Elizabethan  habit  of  aping 
French  customs,  and  Falconbridge  is  ridiculed  there- 
for. Indeed,  the  aptness  of  such  hits  must  have 
made  this  scene  very  sparkling  to  the  Elizabethan 
wits. 

From  this  point  on,  try  to  keep  the  Antonio  story 
and  the  Portia  story  separate.  As  the  play  goes  on, 
several  new  threads  appear.  The  difficulty  of  keep- 
ing them  separate  will  suggest  how  skilfully  they  are 
interwoven. 

Shylock  is  the  great  character  of  the  play.  His 
first  appearance  shows  him  to  be  covetous,  untruthful, 
and  an  usurer.  For  all  that,  he  is  very  different  from 
the  other  great  Elizabethan  picture  of  a  Jew  con- 
tained in  Marlowe's  Jew  of  Malta.  A  comparison  of 
the  two  plays  shows  the  latter  to  be  a  repulsive  mon- 
ster of  cruelty  and  wickedness.  Shylock,  on  the  other 
hand,  is  a  human  being  from  whom  our  sympathies  are 
not  wholly  alienated.     Later  in  the  play,  though  we 


THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE  177 

blame  we  also  pity  him.  It  seems  as  if  Shakespeare 
were  trying  to  make  out  the  best  case  he  could  for  the 
Jew  in  a  time  when  public  sympathy  was  all  against 
the  race. 

With  very  few  exceptions,  Shakespeare  first  pre- 
sents a  bold  outline  sketch  of  a  character.  As  the 
play  goes  on,  this  first  sketch  is  filled  out  and  com- 
pleted, but  the  character  does  not  change.  Macbeth 
is  one  of  the  exceptions.     Is  Shylock? 

It  would  be  well  at  this  point  to  read  in  succession 
all  the  scenes  in  which  Shylock  appears.  Question 
the  motive  of  each  act.  Formulate  your  estimate  of 
his  character  at  the  end  of  the  first  act,  at  the  end  of 
the  third,  at  the  end  of  the  play.  Note  carefully 
whether  the  character  changes,  and  also  whether  your 
feeling  towards  him  changes. 

In  II.  i.  we  have  another  glimpse  of  Portia's  room. 
Note  how  gradually  and  how  carefully  Shakespeare 
is  leading  up  to  the  culmination  of  the  casket  story. 
This  breaking  the  story  into  bits  enhances  the  fa- 
miliarity of  the  audience,  gives  opportunity  to  intro- 
duce the  other  characters,  and  the  remaining  threads 
of  the  story. 

In  modern  presentation  some  of  the  casket  scenes 
are  thrown  together  and  abridged.  Does  this  imply 
that  Shakespeare's  account  is  too  long  drawn  out? 
Has  the  Elizabethan  love  of  declamation  anything  to 
do  with  the  question? 

II.  ii.  To  the  average  reader  this  scene  is  anything 
but  amusing,  though  it  is  delightfully  funny  on  the 
stage.  In  fact,  the  amusement  depends  almost  wholly 
on  the  stage  business  introduced.  It  is  well  to  remem- 
ber that  oftentimes  the  text  of  the  play  is  the  smallest 


178  SHAKESPEARE 

part  of  the  actual  presentation.  And  Shakespeare 
wrote  always  with  the  actual  presentation  in  his  mind, 
as  all  successful  dramatists  do.  Many  so-called  dif- 
ficult passages  are  easily  made  clear  by  the  attempt 
actually  to  imagine  the  stage  picture. 

II.  ii.  157.  Stage  direction.  "  To  his  followers." 
When  did  Leonardo  and  the  others  come  upon  the 
stage?    What  have  they  been  doing  in  the  meantime? 

Except  for  the  allusions  to  the  coming  dinner,  the 
first  175  lines  of  this  scene  are  wholly  a  comedy 
diversion.  They  serve  no  purpose  in  the  plot,  nor 
do  they  add  to  our  knowledge  of  the  important  char- 
acters. Does  one  often  find  in  Shakespeare  so  long 
a  passage  with  no  dramatic  value?  Such  passages 
were  in  common  use  with  the  other  Elizabethan  dram- 
atists.    They  are  not  so  common  to-day. 

Beginning  with  line  1 83  is  another  picture  of  Gra- 
tiano,  but  it  is  not  altogether  like  the  first,  it  supple- 
ments it.  Note  what  was  said  above  relative  to  Shake- 
speare's method  of  drawing  character.  Richard  II 
is  an  exception  to  this  method,  but  not  in  the  same 
way  as  Macbeth. 

II.  ii.  198,  etc.  Should  Gratiano  act  as  if  he  were 
speaking  seriously  or  in  mockery?  The  student  can 
answer  this  question  by  taking  into  consideration:  1. 
Bassanio's  next  lines.  How  does  he  take  it?  2.  WThy 
does  Gratiano  want  to  go?  3.  How  serious  is  his 
intention  ?  4.  Would  one  behavior  or  another  be  more 
likely  to  gain  Bassanio's  permission?  5.  How  does 
he  actually  behave  himself  when  he  gets  to  Belmont? 

With  scene  iii.  we  have  the  beginning  of  another 
thread  of  the  story,  which  must  be  thought  of  both 
by  itself  and  as  a  part  of  the  whole.     Like  the  story 


THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE         179 

of  the  caskets,  the  story  of  Lorenzo  and  Jessica  is 
introduced  piecemeal.  One  advantage  of  this  method 
is  that  it  produces  the  effect  of  passing  time. 

II.  iv.  What  does  this  scene  add  to  the  play?  Note 
the  minor  plot  details;  also  the  touches  that  add  to 
the  character  of  Jessica.  On  the  Elizabethan  stage 
the  change  of  scene  was  probably  not  indicated  except 
by  the  momentary  clearing  of  the  stage.  Doubtless 
the  characters  of  scene  iii.  went  off  one  side  of  the 
stage  to  be  followed  immediately  by  another  set  enter- 
ing opposite. 

II.  vi.  There  were  no  women  among  the  Eliza- 
bethan actors.  Their  parts  were  taken  by  boys  young 
enough  to  have  unbroken  voices.  Though  they  were 
thoroughly  trained  professionally  they  were  still  boys. 
Their  immaturity  accounts  for  the  absence  of  com- 
plex characters  among  the  women  of  Shakespeare's 
plays.  (Cleopatra  and  Lady  Macbeth  are  two  possi- 
ble exceptions.) 

It  is  easy  to  imagine  how  much  more  at  home  a 
boy  on  the  stage  would  be  in  his  own  clothes.  Hence 
the  frequent  disguising  of  the  heroine  in  male  attire. 
How  often  does  Shakespeare  make  use  of  this  device  ? 

Note  that  the  scene  ends  with  a  suggestion  regard- 
ing the  journey  to  Belmont — and  the  next  scene  opens 
at  Belmont.  Such  little  connective  touches  add  much 
to  the  impression  of  continuity  throughout  the  play. 

II.  viii.  This  is  a  very  important  scene.  It  tells 
the  outcome  of  what  happened  in  scene  vi.  It  adds 
a  few  touches  to  Shylock's  character.  It  serves  as 
a  division  scene  between  the  one  before  and  the  one 
after,  both  laid  in  Portia's  room.  Such  division  scenes 
were   very   common   in   the   Elizabethan   drama.      If 


180  SHAKESPEARE 

they  served  no  other  purpose  they  could  be  omitted 
in  modern  presentation,  their  place  being  taken  by 
a  momentary  drop  of  the  curtain.  But  Shakespeare, 
almost  alone  among  Elizabethan  play-writers,  seldom 
failed  to  make  them  serve  other  purposes  as  well. 
He  was  very  economical  of  space. 

Note  also  that  the  lovers  are  grouped  with  those 
in  whom  Antonio  is  interested,  so  their  flight  serves 
to  whet  Shylock's  enmity  against  Antonio.  This  is 
an  added  motive  for  his  malignity.  And  there  imme- 
diately follows  a  hint  as  to  the  possibility  of  financial 
disaster  before  Antonio,  which  will  give  Shylock  his 
chance. 

II.  ix.  The  gold  and  silver  caskets  are  now  dis- 
posed of,  leaving  only  one  for  Bassanio  to  choose. 
So  we  are  prepared  for  the  outcome  in  advance.  He 
cannot  choose  wrong.  Shakespeare  always  takes  his 
audience  fully  into  his  confidence.  This  is  in  contrast 
to  the  practice  of  his  great  contemporary  Jonson. 

Though  Portia  says  nothing  during  Bassanio's 
speech,  she  is  the  most  important  figure  on  the  stage. 
The  audience  should  be  watching  her.  Where  is  she? 
What  does  she  do?  Does  she  act  as  if  she  knew  the 
outcome?  Should  the  other  persons  on  the  stage  be 
watching  her  or  Bassanio?  Or  should  one  be  watch- 
ing her  and  the  others  Bassanio?  Which  one,  and 
why? 

III.  ii.  As  the  structure  of  a  comedy  is  looser 
than  that  of  a  tragedy,  it  is  not  always  possible  to 
discover  all  the  structural  points  in  a  comedy  that  we 
expect  to  find  in  a  tragedy.  However,  this  scene  may 
be  looked  upon  as  the  turning-point.  It  marks  the 
culmination  of  Bassanio's  successful  suit.     Almost  at 


THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE  181 

the  same  moment  comes  the  news  of  the  distressing 
turn  in  Antonio's  fortune.  Henceforth  the  success  of 
Bassanio  is  made  the  means  of  relieving  Antonio. 

Recall  the  allusions  to  lapsing  time  in  the  preceding 
scene.  Bassanio  seems  very  impatient  to  make  his 
choice  and  to  be  done  with  it.  Does  not  this  imply 
that  but  little  time  has  elapsed?  Is  Bassanio  a  mere 
fortune-hunter?  Do  we  at  any  time  feel  as  if  he 
were  not  good  enough  for  Portia  ?  Or  has  he  changed 
from  a  fortune-hunter  to  a  true  lover  since  he  came 
to  Belmont?  In  such  a  case,  however,  would  he  not 
have  been  impatient  from  the  first?  and  prone  to 
delay  later?  just  the  reverse  of  what  he  does. 

IV.  i.  Note  that  Shylock  has  done  nothing  illegal. 
He  is  a  hard  man,  but  the  case  is  with  him.  Has 
Antonio's  haughty  behavior  justified  the  Jew's  hatred? 
Antonio  has  shown  no  wisdom  in  allowing  himself  to 
fall  into  such  a  trap.  Had  Shakespeare  been  trying 
to  illustrate  the  proverb,  "  Pride  goeth  before  de- 
struction," could  he  have  done  better? 

Note  also  how  the  scene,  like  a  play  in  miniature, 
rises  to  a  climax  and  falls  away.  Shylock  steadily 
grows  more  confident  till  Portia's  fanciful  inter- 
pretation of  the  bond.  Then,  by  degrees,  he  is 
crushed  more  and  more  almost  to  the  point  of  anni- 
hilation. 

Shylock  claimed  his  bond  justly.  The  Christians 
outwit  him  by  a  quibble,  then  rob  him.  Is  there  not 
a  good  deal  to  be  said  on  Shylock's  side?  Is  he  any 
more  devilish  than  his  enemies?  Do  they  not  really 
kill  him?  If  a  Jew  were  holding  Christian  practice 
up  to  ridicule,  would  he  write  differently?  We  are 
glad  of  Antonio's  escape,  but  are  we  proud  of  the 


182  SHAKESPEARE 

method?  Did  Shakespeare  mean  to  produce  the  im- 
pression implied  by  the  above  questions? 

A  play  usually  advances  in  rapidity  towards  the 
end.  In  the  fifth  act  of  this  play  there  is  a  great 
cessation  in  the  action.  In  125  lines  nothing  happens 
except  the  arrival  of  Portia  and  Nerissa.  The  ring 
episode  is  started  as  a  new  interest  after  the  play 
is  practically  finished.  (Compare  with  the  fifth  act 
of  The  Midsummer  Night's  Dream  and  Canto  6  of 
Scott's  The  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel.)  By  trifling 
alterations,  mainly  omissions,  this  play  could  be  re- 
duced to  four  acts.  This  is  probably  an  attempt  to 
make  the  jig  an  integral  part  of  the  play. 

The  fifth  act,  however,  is  interesting  from  another 
point  of  view,  to  be  discussed  in  connection  with  the 
Elizabethan  staging  of  the  play. 

II.    The  Plot 
Make  an  analysis  of  the  plot,  employing  the  fol- 
lowing suggestions: 

1.  How  many  different  threads  to  the  story? 

2.  Note  how  difficult  it  is  to  tell  any  thread  with- 
out telling  parts  of  the  others. 

3.  Note  how  they  are  interwoven. 

4.  Does  each  story  have  a  separate  climax,  or  do 
they  come  to  a  climax  together? 

5.  Note  the  order  in  which  the  stories  are  intro- 
duced, and  the  order  in  which  they  are  disposed  of. 
Has  this  order  anything  to  do  with  their  relative  im- 
portance ? 

6.  Is  there  anything  that  could  be  omitted  ? 

7.  Would  you  suggest  any  change  in  the  arrange- 
ment of  the  scenes? 


THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE  183 

III.    The  Characters 

It  is  supposed  that  the  student  has  been  following 
through  his  study  the  suggestions  contained  in  Chap- 
ter VIII.  In  paying  especial  attention  to  character, 
it  is  well  to  read  through  in  succession  the  scenes  in 
which  the  characters  appear. 

Formulate  your  impressions  of  Shylock,  Antonio, 
Bassanio,  and  Portia. 

IV.    The  Elizabethan  Staging  of  the  Play 

The  notes  on  the  Elizabethan  staging  of  this  play 
are  fuller  than  elsewhere  in  the  present  volume  in 
order  to  serve  as  an  example  to  the  student  who 
should  consider  each  play  from  this  point  of  view. 

Below  is  a  list  of  the  stage  settings  as  derived  from 
the  Tudor  Edition  of  the  play. 

1.  Venice,  a  street.  I.  i. ;  II.  ii. ;  II.  iv. ;  II.  viii. ; 
III.  i.;  III.  hi.;  IV.  ii. 

2.  Room  in  Portia's  house.  I.  ii. ;  II.  i. ;  II.  vii. ; 
II.  ix.;  III.  ii.;  III.  iv. 

3.  Venice,  a  public  place.     I.  iii. 

4.  A  room  in  Shy  lock's  house.     II.  iii. 

5.  Before  Shylock's  house.     II.  v.;  II.  vi. 

6.  Portia's  garden.     III.  v. 

7.  Venice,  a  courtroom.     IV.  i. 

8.  Avenue  to  Portia's  house.     V.  i. 

The  probable  average  duration  of  an  Elizabethan 
performance  was  two  hours  and  a  half,  a  period  of 
time  that  does  not  allow  much  time  for  intermissions 
or  scene  shifting.  At  any  rate,  it  is  hardly  conceiva- 
ble that  the  Elizabethans  allowed  for  eight  different 


184  SHAKESPEARE 

scenes,  or  for  the  frequent  tearing  down  of  one  scene 
and  replacing  it  after  another  had  been  used  as  is 
implied  by  the  above  list. 

Let  us  examine  it.  Note  that  seven  scenes  occur 
on  a  street  in  Venice  and  six  in  a  room  in  Portia's 
house.  The  other  scenes  are  used  but  once.  (II.  v. 
and  II.  vi.  were  probably  acted  as  one  continuous 
scene.) 

Examine  the  list  further.  3,  a  public  place,  might 
be  the  same  as  1,  a  street.  This  street  might  also 
contain  Shylock's  house,  5.  Notice  the  list  with  these 
slight  alterations  made. 

1.  Venice,  a  street.  I.  i. ;  I.  iii. ;  II.  ii.;  II.  iv. ; 
II.  v.;  II.  vi.;  II.  viii.;  III.  i.;  III.  iii.;  IV.  ii. 

2.  A  room  in  Portia's  house.  I.  ii.;  II.  i. ;  II.  iii.; 
II.  vii.;  II.  ix.;  III.  iv. 

3.  Portia's  garden.     III.  v. 

4.  A  courtroom.     IV.  i. 

5.  Avenue  to  Portia's  house.    V.  i. 

Notice  that  the  setting  for  the  first  three  acts 
(except  III.  v.)  alternates  between  a  Venetian  street 
and  a  room  in  Portia's  house,  and  that  neither  of 
them  is  used  again.  Glance  over  the  scenes  enu- 
merated above,  and  it  will  be  seen  that  all  of  those  on 
the  street  could  be  easily  acted  in  a  smaller  space  than 
the  others,  and  with  less  paraphernalia  in  the  way 
of  properties,  etc.  We  may  suppose  them  a  series 
of  outer  scenes,  and  the  Portia  house  scenes  to  be 
the  inner  scenes.  So  it  would  be  easy  to  provide 
practically  for  the  first  three  acts  of  the  play  by 
means  of  one  interior  setting  and  one  or  more  painted 
cloths  let  down  from  rollers  overhead. 

Let  us  fancy  the  setting  of  the  room  in  Portia's 


THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE  185 

house.  There  would  be  all  the  necessary  properties 
in  the  way  of  furniture,  etc.,  placed  upon  the  middle 
stage.  At  the  beginning  of  the  play  the  table  upon 
which  rest  the  caskets  would  probably  be  on  the  inner 
stage  concealed  from  the  audience  by  a  curtain,  to 
be  drawn  in  the  casket  scenes.  Doubtless  there  were 
painted  cloths  at  the  back,  representing  the  walls  of  an 
interior,  a  stock  set  which  it  may  be  supposed  was 
already  in  the  possession  of  the  playhouse.  All  this 
material  could  be  in  place  before  the  play  began,  and 
not  materially  disturbed  till  the  end  of  the  third  act. 
Most  of  it,  however,  would  be  concealed  from  the 
audience  by  the  drawn  curtains  between  the  posts 
supporting  the  heavens. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  play  these  curtains  are 
drawn  apart,  showing  a  painted  cloth  that  has  been 
let  down  in  front  of  the  articles  that  furnish  the 
material.  This  cloth  would  represent  a  street  for 
the  street  scenes,  and  a  house  to  serve  as  Shylock's 
house,  probably  to  one  side,  so  that  the  balcony  above 
could  be  used  as  the  second  story  of  this  house.  At 
the  end  of  the  scene  the  cloth  is  rolled  up,  dis- 
closing Portia's  room.  At  the  end  of  the  next  scene 
it  is  dropped  for  I.  iii.,  raised  for  I.  iv.,  and  so  on. 
Note  that  up  to  this  point  one  painted  cloth  on  a  roller 
and  the  stock  furnishing  for  an  interior  have  provided 
for  all  the  scenes. 

It  would  be  well  for  the  student  to  go  through  the 
play  looking  for  every  suggestion  both  in  stage  direc- 
tions and  in  the  lines  themselves  that  will  help  make 
out  a  list  of  the  properties  needed.  This,  however, 
is  merely  an  exercise  for  practice.  It  should  be 
remembered  that  many  of  the  stage  directions  have 


186  SHAKESPEARE 

been  introduced  by  modern  editors.  If  the  student 
wishes  to  include  only  such  items  as  are  mentioned  in 
contemporary  texts  he  should  consult  the  "  First  Folio 
Edition/'  Crowell  &  Co. 

A  second  painted  cloth  representing  a  garden  could 
now  be  let  down  for  III.  v.  This  would  doubtless 
already  be  in  possession  of  the  company  that  had 
produced  Romeo  and  Juliet.  While  the  scene  is  being 
acted  a  slight  rearrangement  of  properties  would  con- 
vert Portia's  room  into  a  courtroom.  When  the 
painted  cloth  is  raised  the  audience  would  see  the 
court  of  justice,  a  seat  for  the  duke,  tables,  etc.,  and 
a  portion  of  the  audience  on  either  side  of  the  stage, 
dressed  in  clothes  similar  to  those  worn  by  most  of 
the  actors.  This  portion  of  the  audience  would  eke 
out  the  handful  of  spectators  witnessing  the  trial. 

At  the  end  of  the  scene  the  original  painted  cloth 
is  let  down,  and  the  preparations  made  for  act  V. 
As  the  last  scene  of  act  IV.  is  very  brief,  there  may 
have  been  a  short  intermission  here,  for  the  next 
scene  may  well  have  been  the  great  scene  of  the  play. 
In  fact,  act  V.  affords  plenty  of  scope  for  the  fancy 
to  rove. 

As  I  read  through  the  succession  of  Shakespeare's 
plays  I  find  that  a  few  stock  sets  and  half  a  dozen 
drops  will  furnish  the  stage  effects  of  most  of  them. 
Every  now  and  then,  however,  I  am  driven  to  the 
conclusion  that  some  play  demands  an  extensive  new 
setting,  just  such  as  would  to-day  be  advertised  under 
the  heading  of  extensive  and  elaborate  scenery.  The 
camp  scenes  of  Henry  the  Fifth  are  an  example.  It 
is  my  feeling,  a  mere  inference,  I  confess,  that  the 
playhouse  owners   of   that   day   frequently  made   an 


THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE         187 

effort  to  produce  some  new  effect  which  could  be  in- 
troduced to  enliven  a  play  that  was  staged  for  the  most 
part  with  scenery  already  in  possession  of  the  com- 
pany. In  the  present  case  I  have  suggested  that 
four  acts  of  this  play  could  easily  and  effectively 
have  been  staged  by  material  already  in  posses- 
sion of  the  house.  And  I  imagine  that  the  special 
efforts  were  put  upon  the  setting  for  the  last 
act. 

I  shall  not  attempt  to  describe  it.  That  would  be 
a  mere  exercise  of  invention  as  to  what  could  be  done 
with  the  resources  we  know  the  Elizabethans  had  at 
their  command.  What  I  wish  to  call  attention  to  is 
this:  the  scene  is  so  much  more  effective  when  acted 
upon  a  stage  that  can  be  darkened,  that  I  believe  the 
Elizabethans  would  do  so  if  they  could.  No  other 
act  in  Shakespeare  affords  so  many  indications  that 
the  scene  was  acted  upon  a  partially  darkened  stage. 
I  wish  to  point  out  these  facts  and  then  show  how 
the  Elizabethans  could  have  accomplished  the  effect 
readily  with  the  resources  at  their  command. 

Let  us  consider  the  situation  in  detail.  The  scene 
is  before  Portia's  palace  at  night.  There  are  many 
places  in  Shakespeare's  plays  where  a  descriptive 
passage  seems  to  serve  the  purpose  of  suggesting  sur- 
roundings not  visible  to  the  audience.  There  is  no 
contradicting  the  fact  that  such  suggestions  may  be 
serviceable,  and  were  frequently  made  use  of,  and 
that  an  audience  could  take  advantage  of  them  to 
supply  the  absence  of  a  tangible  setting.  On  the 
other  hand,  if  such  suggestions  be  carried  to  the 
extreme,  they  defeat  their  own  end.  A  suggestion 
must  be  lightly  touched,  not  driven  in  with  a  sledge- 


188  SHAKESPEARE 

hammer.  Nothing  would  be  easier  or  more  disastrous 
than  to  overdo  the  matter  of  suggestion. 

Now  what  is  the  situation  in  this  regard  of  the 
last  act?  The  fact  that  it  is  night  is  referred  to  no 
less  than  thirteen  times.  Is  not  this  a  little  too  em- 
phatic for  mere  suggestion?  Would  not  the  constant 
repetition  seem  ridiculous  rather  than  suggestive? 
But  this  is  not  all.  The  presence  of  a  visible  moon 
and  stars  is  referred  to  six  times.  Of  even  greater 
significance  are  some  of  the  situations.  Stephano 
enters,  but  is  not  recognized  till  he  tells  who  he  is. 
Launcelot  enters.  Several  phrases  are  spoken  before 
the  persons  on  the  stage  can  properly  locate  each 
other.  Portia  and  Nerissa  appear.  They  neither  see 
the  others  on  the  stage  nor  are  seen  by  them.  Portia 
is  at  last  recognized  by  her  voice. 

Even  after  granting  a  vivid  imagination  to  Eliza- 
bethan audiences,  far  more  vivid  than  ours  in  dra- 
matic affairs,  I  cannot  help  but  feel  that  this  scene 
would  not  carry  itself  on  a  fully  lighted  stage  such 
as  we  imagine  in  connection  with  a  daylight  perform- 
ance. Though  it  is  but  an  inference,  it  seems  a 
justifiable  one,  that  during  this  scene  the  Elizabethan 
stage  was  actually  darkened. 

Two  points  add  somewhat  to  the  plausibility  of  the 
suggestion.  If  the  playhouse  and  the  stage  were 
flooded  with  daylight  fewer  references  and  slight 
alterations  would  add  to  the  effect  of  mere  suggestion, 
were  that  all  that  was  desired.  The  fact  that  Shake- 
speare, who  by  this  time  was  a  master  of  stagecraft, 
took  a  different  course,  implies  different  conditions. 

Second.  It  would  be  easy  to  darken  the  stage.  The 
distance  across  the  top  of  the  playhouse  was  not  too 


THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE         189 

great  to  be  easily  spanned  by  wires,  or  ropes.  Canvas 
could  be  easily  drawn  backward  and  forth  upon  such 
cables  and  manipulated  as  easily  as  the  shades  which 
control  the  light  in  a  modern  photographic  studio. 
Could  the  inventive  Elizabethans  have  failed  to  resort 
to  such  an  easy  and  inexpensive  means  of  adding 
effectiveness  to  many  scenes  that  seem  to  have  been 
written  to  take  advantage  of  a  darkened  stage? 

The  stage  could  also  have  been  darkened  in  an- 
other way.  The  middle  stage  was  shadowed  by  the 
heavens.  It  would  have  been  easy  to  draw  curtains 
from  the  supporting  posts  to  the  rear  of  the  stage 
upon  either  side.  This  would  have  materially  lessened 
the  amount  of  light  falling  upon  the  middle  stage. 
The  inner  stage  would  have  appeared  almost  like  a 
cave  for  darkness.  And  the  contrast  would  have  been 
increased  inasmuch  as  the  audience  would  then  have 
been  in  the  full  light.  The  total  effect  would  be  that 
of  one  in  the  full  light  looking  into  a  cavern. 

It  might  be  suggested  that  this  method  would  cut 
off  the  view  of  that  part  of  the  audience  seated  upon 
the  stage  itself.  But  not  necessarily.  If  the  side 
curtains  did  not  come  to  within  four  feet  of  the  stage 
floor  seated  spectators  could  look  under  them,  and 
the  curtains  would  have  been  equally  effective.  The 
spectators  themselves  would  fill  the  gap  made  by  the 
shortened  drapery. 

(As  an  example,  let  the  student  search  for  other 
examples  throughout  the  plays  that  seem  to  cry  out 
for  a  darkened  stage.  Note  also  the  slightly  different 
method  of  working  out  the  setting  of  scenes  as  sug- 
gested in  the  chapter  on  Henry  the  Fifth.) 


CHAPTER  XVI 
JULIUS  CMSAR 

Notes  on  the  Text 

One  who  assumes  that  an  Elizabethan  play  is 
named  after  the  principal  personage  is  easily  led  into 
error  regarding  Julius  Ccesar.  It  is  a  fact  that  the 
Elizabethans  did  not  consider  it  necessary  to  follow 
the  practice  of  closely  relating  the  title  of  a  play  to 
the  subject-matter.  Shakespeare  evidently  considered 
it  a  matter  of  no  importance  to  give  a  play  an  irrele- 
vant title,  or  a  title  that  suggested  a  minor  part: — 
for  instance,  Twelfth  Night,  As  You  Like  It,  The 
Merchant  of  Venice,  Cymbeline,  etc.  This  play,  in 
reality,  is  the  play  of  Brutus. 

Structurally,  the  play  appears  more  symmetrical 
when  viewed  from  the  standpoint  of  Brutus.  Like 
Hamlet,  it  is  a  study  of  the  disastrous  results  of  a 
man's  attempt  to  perform  a  task  for  which  he  is 
wholly  incompetent.  Brutus  at  the  beginning  is  inno- 
cent but  disturbed  in  mind.  He  is  won  over  to  the 
conspirators  largely  because  he  considers  them  to  be 
as  high-minded  in  their  motives  as  himself.  He  then 
attempts  the  impossible  task  of  running  a  political 
conspiracy  on  moral  principles.  Because  he  does  not 
understand  the  wicked  passions  and  motives  of  the 
men  he  has  to  deal  with,  he  makes  one  blunder  after 

190 


JULIUS  C^SAR  191 

another,  till  he  brings  ruin  upon  himself  and  his 
followers. 

In  this  plot  design  Brutus  is  opposed  to  imperial- 
ism, to  the  office  of  Caesar,  represented  in  the  play 
by  three  persons:  Julius  Caesar,  Antony,  and  Oc- 
tavius.  The  first  of  the  three  is,  therefore,  not  to 
be  thought  of  in  any  way  as  the  most  important  char- 
acter of  the  play. 

The  theme  of  this  play  is  identical  with  that  of 
Hamlet.  There  is,  however,  this  important  difference 
between  the  two  plays.  In  Hamlet  the  working  out 
of  the  idea  is  the  dominating  element.  Everything 
is  made  subservient  to  it.  In  Ccesar  this  is  but  partly 
true.  Shakespeare  had  just  emerged  from  his  his- 
tory-writing period.  The  habit  was  still  strong  upon 
him.  Habits  are  difficult  things  to  drop,  and  we  find 
in  places  that  the  mere  dramatization  of  Plutarch's 
story  seems  to  take  the  precedence.  For  all  that,  the 
play  illustrates  a  considerable  progress  on  the  part 
of  Shakespeare  along  the  road  of  dramatic  independ- 
ence. 

I.  i.  This  scene  shows  primarily  that  there  is  al- 
ready in  existence  a  considerable  party  opposed  to 
Caesar.  Perhaps  this  party  was  secretly  incited  by 
Cassius.  Is  there  anything  in  the  play  to  confirm 
or  disprove  this  notion?  Brutus  may  have  known  of 
it.  It  may  have  been  the  existence  of  this  faction  that 
set  him  to  thinking  along  new  lines.  But  at  the  open- 
ing of  the  play  he  is  still  uninfluenced  by  it.  His  ac- 
tions are  due  wholly  to  his  own  reasoning  out  of  the 
situation. 

This  scene  also  implies  that  important  use  is 
eventually  to  be  made  out  of  the  Roman  mob.     The 


192  SHAKESPEARE 

behavior  of  the  mob,  however,  need  not  be  taken 
to  represent  Shakespeare's  conception  of  the  common 
people  and  their  characteristics.  Compare  with  Henry 
the  Sixth,  where  such  persons  are  introduced  wholly 
for  comic  effect;  and  with  Henry  the  Fifth,  where 
the  commonalty  is  the  chief  justification  for  the  ex- 
istence of  a  king,  as  well  as  his  mainstay  and  sup- 
port. Note  also  the  characteristics  of  the  common  peo- 
ple in  Coriolanus.  If  one  of  these  plays  represents 
the  personal  feelings  of  Shakespeare  more  than  an- 
other I  fancy  that  it  is  Henry  the  Fifth. 

I.  i.  69-    Is  this  fact  referred  to  again  in  the  play? 

I.  ii.  Examine  this  scene  carefully.  Note  all  the 
references  to  the  character  of  Caesar  and  to  his  phys- 
ical personality.  Note  how  many  of  them  are  unat- 
tractive and  uncomplimentary.  Later,  supplement 
this  list  with  material  drawn  from  the  remainder  of 
the  play.  We  find  Caesar  superstitious,  pompous, 
vain,  and  boastful.  How  is  this  unfavorable  view  of 
Caesar  to  be  accounted  for?  Does  Shakespeare  mean 
to  imply  that  the  position  of  Caesar,  that  is,  imperial- 
ism, is  independent  of  the  particular  man  who  for 
the  moment  represents  it?  That  because  he  is 
Caesar  he  can  carry  these  defects  as  if  they  were  no 
load   to   speak    of? 

I.  ii.  29-  Note  how  Brutus  and  Antony  are  con- 
trasted from  the  very  beginning  of  the  play. 

I.  ii.  46.  It  must  be  remembered  that  at  the  mo- 
ment Cassius  approached  Brutus  the  latter  was,  as 
we  learn  later,  much  disturbed  over  the  very  matter 
that  Cassius  has  come  to  broach. 

I.  ii.  79-  Brutus  says,  "  I  do  fear  the  people  choose 
Caesar  for  their  king."    He  here  uses  the  word  fear  in 


JULIUS  C^SAR  193 

the  same  loose  way  in  which  we  now  use  it  colloquially 
in  such  expressions  as  "  I  fear  it  will  rain  to-morrow." 
Cassius,  however,  pretending  to  understand  Brutus  to 
mean  the  word  in  its  literal  sense,  so  uses  it  himself, 
thus  forcing  Brutus  into  an  acknowledgment  which 
he  did  not  intend  to  make.  This  quick-witted  atten- 
tion to  details  is  very  characteristic  of  Cassius.  Find 
other  illustrations  in  the  play  of  his  quick  and  keen 
observation  of  details. 

I.  ii.  162-175.  Though  Brutus  has  already  been 
thinking  along  the  very  lines  suggested  to  him  by 
Cassius,  he  is  cautious  and  unwilling  to  act  without 
sufficient  thought.  Cassius  realizes  that  it  will  be 
difficult  to  win  the  support  of  Brutus.  But  Cassius 
also  knows  that  if  Brutus  is  once  won  over  he  will 
became  a  staunch  adherent.  This  slow  reasoning  to 
a  permanent  conclusion  is  the  prime  characteristic  of 
Brutus. 

I.  ii.  200-212.  This  passage  is  a  very  accurate 
estimate  of  the  character  of  Cassius.  Does  it  in  real- 
ity emanate  from  Shakespeare  or  from  Caesar?  Con- 
sider the  character  of  Caesar  throughout  the  play.  If 
he  knew  all  this,  and  believes  all  he  says  to  Antony 
about  Cassius,  would  he  be  likely  to  take  no  precau- 
tions to  protect  himself? 

Notice  also  how  this  scene  suggests  the  importance 
of  Cassius  in  relation  to  Caesar. 

I.  ii.  267-  Casca  refers  to  Caesar's  doublet.  In 
Elizabethan  times  there  was  practically  no  serious  at- 
tempt at  costuming  as  we  now  understand  the  word. 
It  is  true  that  one  of  the  largest  expenses  of  the 
Elizabethan  actors  was  for  clothes.  But  the  clothes 
they   wore   were    Elizabethan   clothes,   not   costumes 


194  SHAKESPEARE 

representative  of  the  parts  enacted.  A  warrior  wore 
armor,  but  Elizabethan  not  Roman  armor.  Caesar 
here  wears  an  Elizabethan  doublet,  not  a  Roman 
garment. 

I.  ii.  312,  etc.  (See  the  remarks  concerning  so- 
liloquies in  the  chapter  on  Richard  the  Third.)  This 
soliloquy  is  accurate  so  far  as  the  character  of  Brutus 
is  concerned.  It  is  also  quite  in  keeping  with  the 
character  of  Cassius.  It  calls  attention  to  the  "  hon- 
orable metal "  of  Brutus,  but  hints  that  he  is  gullible 
and  easily  deceived.  It  suggests  in  line  315  the  pit- 
fall into  which  Brutus  eventually  falls.  It  also  im- 
plies the  crafty  nature  of  Cassius,  a  rather  low  view 
of  human  kind  (316)  and  that  he  is  a  trifle  vain  (319). 
It  shows  him,  here  as  elsewhere,  a  good  judge  of 
men  and  utterly  unscrupulous.  Find  other  examples 
in  the  play  of  these  characteristics  of  Cassius. 

I.  iii.  The  Elizabethans  believed  in  the  widespread 
superstition  which  held  that  abnormal  physical  con- 
ditions, especially  great  storms,  preceded  or  accom- 
panied great  crimes.  Therefore,  the  effect  of 
such  a  tremendous  display  of  omens  and  portents 
is  to  enhance  the  magnitude  of  the  crime  that  fol- 
lows. 

With  this  fact  in  mind,  one  feels  that  the  scene, 
acted  in  the  broad  daylight,  would  be  almost  ridicu- 
lous. See  elsewhere  the  discussion  of  a  darkened 
stage  in  Elizabethan  times  and  the  method  of  accom- 
plishing it  in  the  contemporary  theater. 

Note  how  cleverly  Cassius  sounds  Casca  and  wins 
him  to  his  side.  We  may  imagine  this  typical,  not  as 
a  single  occurrence,  but  as  an  example  of  how  Cas- 
sius is  working  upon  all  the  likely  people  with  whom 


JULIUS  CAESAR  195 

he  comes  in  contact.  His  success  here  also  fore- 
shadows his  future  success  with  Brutus. 

II.  i.  10-34.  This  passage  is  a  genuine  soliloquy. 
It  shows  Brutus  in  the  act  of  making  up  his  mind. 
He  is  the  apostle  of  reason.  That  is  the  character- 
istic which  made  him  one  of  the  conspirators,  and  it 
is  also  the  characteristic  which  eventually  brings  about 
his  downfall.  Is  this  assertion  supported  by  the  re- 
mainder of  the  play?  Or  should  we  say  that  Brutus 
is  a  poor  reasoner,  and  that  that  is  what  brings  about 
his  final  ruin? 

Brutus  reads  the  paper  that  is  thrown  in  at  his 
window.  The  audience  has  already  been  informed 
about  this  paper.  How  does  Brutus  take  it?  Does 
the  way  in  which  it  influences  him  show  whether  he 
is  or  is  not  a  practical  man  of  the  world?  How  do 
we  usually  feel  towards  people  who  act  as  the  result 
of,  or  are  influenced  by,  anonymous  communications? 

II.  i.  61.  Note  how  seriously  Brutus  is  taking  the 
matter.  He  does  not  cast  in  his  lot  with  the  con- 
spirators heedlessly.  If  he  makes  a  mistake  it  is 
because  he  is  unable  to  judge  the  situation  more  ac- 
curately. 

II.  i.  90.  Cassius  is  a  very  skilful  flatterer.  Ob- 
serve how  often  he  gives  evidence  of  this  character- 
istic. 

II.  i.  101-111.  No  importance  attaches  to  this 
scrap  of  conversation.  It  is  merely  put  in  to  occupy 
the  time  while  Brutus  and  Cassius  are  whispering. 
It  would  be  very  awkward  for  the  other  actors  on 
the  stage  to  be  doing  nothing  for  a  moment  or  two. 

II.  i.  114.  Why  does  not  Brutus  want  them  to  take 
an  oath?     1.  What  he  says  is  quite  true  of  himself. 


196  SHAKESPEARE 

2.  Is  it  true  of  the  others?  3.  Should  he  have 
thought  it  true  of  all  the  others,  or  should  he  have 
known  better?  4.  Does  the  situation  not  show  that 
Brutus  is  unacquainted  with  the  general  run  of  men? 
In  other  words,  that  he  is  not  a  practical  man  of  the 
world  ? 

Note  also  that  this  first  act  of  Brutus  after  he  has 
decided  to  join  the  conspirators  is  to  object  to  one  of 
their  plans.  This  happens  several  times  in  the  play. 
As  a  rule  we  find  that  the  opposition  of  Brutus  is  due 
to  high-mindedness,  but,  as  a  rule,  it  is  ill-timed. 

II.  i.  150.  Again,  in  regard  to  Cicero,  Brutus 
raises  an  objection  to  what  all  the  other  conspirators 
seem  agreed  upon.  They  have  very  earnestly  desired 
the  co-operation  of  Brutus;  and  the  ready  way  in 
which  Cassius  permits  himself  to  be  overruled  by  his 
new  recruit  shows  the  advantage  he  hoped  would  be 
derived  from  the  accession  of  Brutus  to  the  ranks  of 
the  conspirators.  Yet  Cassius  must  have  begun  to 
repent  very  soon.  In  fact,  his  misjudging  the  char- 
acter and  the  advantage  of  Brutus  is  the  blunder  that 
in  the  end  wrecks  the  conspiracy. 

Note  that  generally  throughout  Shakespeare's 
plays  the  men  who  deserve  punishment  bring  it  upon 
themselves. 

II.  i.  162,  etc.  Still  again  Brutus  opposes  the  sug- 
gestion of  Cassius, — this  time  in  regard  to  their  at- 
titude toward  Antony.  This  is  the  third  time  Brutus 
has  manifested  his  opposition.  And,  as  events  turn 
out,  it  proves  to  be  the  fatal  mistake.  For  it  is  An- 
tony's permission  to  speak  at  Caesar's  funeral, 
granted  by  Brutus  but  opposed  by  Cassius,  which 
eventually  overthrows  the  conspiracy. 


JULIUS  C&SAR  197 

In  all  this  Brutus  shows  himself  to  be  a  poor  judge 
of  present  conditions.  He  is  acting  in  accordance  with 
his  theories.  He  is  trying  to  run  a  conspiracy  on 
paper.  He  does  not  know  what  is  likely  to  happen  in 
real  life.  He  misjudges  the  behavior  of  the  mob  and 
underestimates  the  power  of  a  man  who  possesses  a 
persuasive  tongue  like  Antony's. 

How  does  the  failure  of  Brutus  to  act  to  the  best 
practical  advantage  of  the  conspirators  affect  our 
estimation  of  the  character  of  Cassius  ?  Should  he  not 
have  known  Brutus  better? 

II.  i.  183.  Cassius  is  not  so  subservient  to  Brutus 
as  before.  He  expresses  some  opposition  himself. 
But  he  has  been  so  urgent  to  the  other  conspirators 
regarding  the  advantage  of  Brutus'  assistance  that  he 
finds  his  hands  in  a  way  tied  at  the  present  moment. 

II.  i.  219.  Brutus  will  give  Ligarius  reasons.  The 
key  to  the  character  of  Brutus,  and  to  his  failure,  is  to 
be  found  in  the  fact  that  he  does  not  know  that  most 
men  are  swayed  by  their  passions  rather  than  by  their 
minds.  Indeed,  this  fact  is  one  of  the  principal  de- 
tails brought  out  in  the  play. 

II.  i.  229.  The  return  to  Lucius  for  a  moment,  with 
whom  the  scene  began,  serves  to  round  up  this  portion 
of  the  scene  as  a  kind  of  unit.  It  is  now  ended  and  we 
are  ready  for  other  things. 

The  closing  portion  of  the  scene,  in  which  Brutus 
talks  with  Portia,  serves  several  purposes:  1.  It  re- 
calls us  to  the  every-day  world  about  us  which  we  left 
at  the  entrance  of  the  conspirators,  much  as  the  knock- 
ing on  the  gate  does  in  Macbeth.  2.  It  also  empha- 
sizes the  deliberate,  thoughtful  way  in  which  Brutus 
has  made  up  his  mind.    3.  It  further  serves  to  give  us 


198  SHAKESPEARE 

a  little  touch  of  the  more  human  side  of  the  man  who 
has  just  been  caught  up  by  the  current  of  great  pub- 
lic events.  Nowhere  in  the  play  does  Portia  rise 
above  the  position  of  a  mere  minor  character. 

II.  ii.  Note  how  the  opening  conversation  between 
Caesar  and  Calpurnia  recalls  the  closing  situation  of 
the  preceding  scene,  the  conversation  between  Brutus 
and  Portia.  By  such  little  devices  are  the  portions  of 
a  play  linked  together  and  made  to  seem  more  con- 
tinuous. 

Does  this  scene  bring  out  the  constancy  of  Caesar 
of  which  he  boasted? — or  the  reverse?  Do  selfish 
motives  figure  in  Caesar's  final  decision  to  go  to  the 
Senate  House? 

Scenes  iii.  and  iv.  were  probably  acted  continuously 
on  the  outer  stage,  and  the  time  of  their  enactment 
occupied  in  setting  the  scene  which  follows,  on  the 
inner  stage. 

III.  Scenes  i.  and  ii.  of  this  act,  which  prac- 
tically constitute  the  whole  act,  have  to  all  intents  and 
purposes  the  same  setting.  We  may,  therefore,  think 
of  them  as  constituting  a  continuous  scene.  Note, 
then,  how  much  significant  matter  is  contained  in  this 
great  central  scene  of  the  play.  1.  There  is  the 
outbreak  of  the  conspiracy  culminating  in  the  murder 
of  Caesar.  2.  Next  comes  the  sudden  rise  of  Antony. 
3.  The  scene  contains  what  is,  to  all  intents  and  pur- 
poses, the  overthrow  of  the  conspiracy.  4.  It  makes 
very  evident  the  fact  that  Brutus,  after  all,  was  the 
real  cause  of  failure  on  the  part  of  the  conspirators. 

III.  i.  8.  Is  this  phrase  of  Caesar's  a  noble  senti- 
ment, or  mere  grandiloquence  ? 

Note  the  care  with  which  Antony  is  drawn  aside. 


JULIUS  CESAR  199 

Brutus  formerly  made  light  of  the  pretense  that  An- 
tony might  turn  out  to  be  an  enemy  with  whom  they 
need  seriously  to  reckon.  But  the  conspirators  seem 
to  have  known  better. 

III.  i.  35,  etc.  Caesar  speaks  a  good  deal  of  bom- 
bast in  this  scene.  Is  its  effect  on  the  audience  prej- 
udicial to  the  character  of  Caesar?  Throughout  the 
play,  does  Caesar  act  with  the  consistency  of  which  he 
brags  in  this  scene? 

III.  i.  95.  Note  that  Antony's  name  appears  again 
at  the  most  critical  moment  of  the  play. 

III.  i.  104.  Brutus  acts  as  spokesman  as  if  he  were 
the  actual  leader  of  the  insurrection.  Yet  Cassius 
has  really  been  the  heart  and  soul  of  it  up  to  this  mo- 
ment. How  important  a  part  does  Brutus  think  he 
himself  has  played? 

III.  i.  124.  The  servant's  speech  is  a  masterpiece. 
It  must  have  been  planned  in  every  detail  by  the 
clever  Antony.  It  plays  upon  Brutus'  weakness,  it  is 
thoroughly  non-committal,  and  every  safeguard  is 
taken  for  eventually  jumping  either  way. 

III.  i.  141.  Brutus  has  been  quickly  caught  by 
Antony's  bait  of  an  opportunity  to  give  reasons. 

III.  i.  147.  One  of  the  most  skilfully  managed 
passages  of  the  play  follows  the  entrance  of  Antony. 
He  is  acting  every  moment  of  the  time.  He  pretends 
to  be  loyal  to  Caesar  lest  the  conspirators  will  not 
trust  him  if  he  seems  to  desert  too  easily.  Yet  he 
wants  them  to  believe  that  in  the  end  he  is  to  be  won 
over.  Of  course,  at  heart,  he  is  loyal  to  Caesar 
throughout. 

III.  i.  177,  178.  This  is  an  odd  speech  for  Cas- 
sius to  make.    Does  he  mean  it? 


200  SHAKESPEARE 

III.  i.  205.  This  expression  of  praise  required 
splendid  courage  on  the  part  of  Antony,  and  shows  his 
far-sighted  intuition.  It  is  a  true  representation  of  his 
feelings,  but  it  is  not  a  spontaneous  outbreak.  Every 
detail  has  been  planned  in  advance  and  carried  out 
with  the  skill  of  a  consummate  actor.  His  motive  is  to 
make  the  conspirators  feel  that  if  he  could  be  so  loyal 
to  Caesar  under  such  dangerous  circumstances,  just 
so  loyal  will  he  be  to  them  if  he  is  once  won  over. 
Antony  took  a  great  risk  when  he  made  this  speech, 
but  he  triumphed. 

III.  i.  232.  Cassius  knows  men  far  better  than 
Brutus  does.  He  instantly  sees  the  danger  of  allow- 
ing Antony  to  speak,  and  seeks  to  restrain  Brutus  from 
giving  permission.  Brutus,  however,  insists  on  having 
his  own  way.  And  it  is  the  result  of  this  insistence 
that  turns  the  tide  against  him.  Thus  Brutus  is  really 
the  cause  of  the  overthrow  of  the  conspiracy.  And 
his  cause  fails  because  of  his  own  unswerving  devo- 
tion to  his  own  high  motives. 

III.  i.  245.  Brutus'  belief  that  Antony  will  obey 
his  commands  argues  very  little  worldly  knowledge  on 
the  part  of  Brutus — it  is  almost  childlike.  This  in- 
cident also  reflects  somewhat  on  the  character  of  Cas- 
sius, who  should  have  gauged  Brutus  to  better  advan- 
tage before  he  made  him  the  leader  of  the  conspiracy. 

III.  i.  254.  Up  to  this  point  the  audience  has  not 
been  quite  sure  whether  Antony  is  playing  fast  and 
loose  with  the  faction,  or  whether  he  is  really  med- 
itating an  advantageous  desertion  to  its  ranks.  At 
this  point  he  throws  off  the  mask  of  his  acting.  This 
soliloquy  represents  the  real  Antony,  and  sets  the 
audience  right. 


JULIUS  C^SAR  201 

Note  how  the  sympathy  of  the  audience  swings  like 
a  pendulum.  Caesar's  arrogance  turns  this  sympathy 
towards  Brutus.  Brutus  is  so  easily  taken  in  by  An- 
tony that  he  now  loses  some  of  the  sympathy  that  has 
been  aroused  for  him  as  a  conscientious  leader.  Mean- 
time, the  attention  of  the  audience  is  becoming  cen- 
tered upon  the  rising  genius  of  Antony.  In  other 
words,  the  sympathy  of  the  audience  is  again  swinging 
towards  Caesar  and  the  successor  of  Caesar. 

III.  i.  276.  Notice  here  the  allusion  to  Octavius. 
It  was  Shakespeare's  habit  to  introduce  an  allusion  to 
the  force  that  is  going  to  resolve  the  action  at  the  very 
moment  at  which  that  action  reaches  the  height  of  its 
first  culmination. 

III.  ii.  7.  Brutus  is  going  to  give  the  public  rea- 
sons. He  is  the  philosopher,  the  exceptional  man,  who 
regulates  his  actions  entirely  by  his  mind.  He  knows 
mankind  so  slightly  that  he  fancies  all  men  like 
himself.  He  cannot  understand  how  a  man  can  fail 
to  side  with  him  if  sufficient  reasons  are  given  for  so 
doing. 

On  the  other  hand,  Antony  is  the  man  of  the  hour. 
He  knows  that  men  are  swayed  at  important  moments 
by  their  passions,  not  by  their  minds.  He  is  willing 
to  risk  all  on  a  half-hour  incendiary  oration. 

As  the  sequence  shows  he  is  right.  The  much  purer, 
higher-minded  Brutus  is  all  wrong.  And  so  Antony 
wins  and  Brutus  loses  because  the  former  is  familiar 
with  his  tools  and  the  latter  is  not. 

III.  ii.  78.  This  wonderful  speech  of  Antony  will 
bear  careful  analysis.  It  is  a  masterpiece  of  elo- 
quence. Its  proper  delivery  requires  the  exercise  of 
marvelous  acting  ability. 


202  SHAKESPEARE 

Antony  is  the  friend  of  Caesar,  speaking  at  the 
moment  of  the  triumph  of  his  enemies,  at  their  vic- 
tim's funeral,  by  their  sufferance,  and  before  a  hostile 
crowd.  It  is  his  intention  to  turn  that  crowd  against 
the  very  men  they  are  now  adoring,  and  to  win  them 
entirely  to  his  own  side.  And  he  essays  the  task  with- 
out fear,  and  with  no  doubt  as  to  the  outcome. 

III.  ii.  87.  Antony  speaks  of  Brutus  as  an  honor- 
able man.  There  is  here  not  the  least  hint  of  sarcasm 
in  Antony's  voice.  His  first  step  towards  winning  the 
crowd  is  to  adopt  their  point  of  view  and  make  them 
believe  that  he  is  one  of  them.  Later  he  uses  the 
same  words  sarcastically.  In  the  meantime  he  grad- 
ually, but  very  gradually,  changes  his  tone.  All  the 
while  he  is  on  the  outlook  for  indications  that  the 
crowd  has  begun  to  come  to  him.  Perhaps  the  first 
touch,  the  slightest  touch,  however,  of  sarcasm,  ap- 
pears in  line  104. 

III.  ii.  112.  In  reality  Antony  pauses,  not  because 
he  is  overcome  by  emotion,  but  in  order  to  catch  some 
audible  hint  of  the  change  of  feeling  on  the  part  of 
his  hearers.  He  needs  a  cue  as  to  how  to  continue. 
He  is  richly  rewarded  by  the  scrap  of  conversation 
which  he  overhears  among  the  citizens,  and  begins 
again  to  speak  with  renewed  confidence. 

III.  ii.  129-  The  increased  sarcasm  of  this  line  is 
soon  to  develop  into  an  open  sneer. 

III.  ii.  145.  Now  that  he  is  sure  of  success,  Antony 
begins  to  tease  his  audience  with  delay. 

III.  ii.  219.  Fancy  the  contempt  Antony  puts  into 
the  word,  "  reasons  "  ! 

III.  ii.  225.  Note  the  splendid  irony  of  this  line 
and  in  what  follows. 


JULIUS  CAESAR  203 

III.  ii.  265.  With  the  exit  of  the  citizens  the  con- 
spiracy, if  not  over,  is  at  least  foredoomed  to  failure. 
At  this  point  one  can  easily  fancy  the  outcome.  From 
here  on  the  play  consists  of: — 1.  The  mere  continua- 
tion of  the  story  to  the  end.  2.  A  picture  of  Brutus 
in  defeat.  And,  as  often  elsewhere  in  Shakespeare, 
the  play  ends  more  weakly  than  it  began.  Hamlet 
and  Othello  are  the  two  most  notable  exceptions  to 
this  reflection. 

IV.  i.  At  the  opening  of  this  scene  we  meet  the 
triumvirs,  all  of  whom  figure  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra. 
The  suggestion  contained  in  line  9  is  quite  unworthy 
of  the  Antony  of  the  latter  play.  In  fact,  throughout 
this  scene  Antony's  attitude  towards  Lepidus  is  not 
at  all  to  his  credit.  It  must  be  remembered,  however, 
that  Lepidus  was  generally  considered  to  be  the  non- 
entity of  the  triumvirate. 

IV.  ii.  Note  how  quickly  dissension  has  got  among 
the  conspirators.  In  line  19  Brutus  refers  to  Cassius 
as  "a  hot  friend  cooling."  Is  this  charge  true?  Is 
it  due  to  the  fact  that  Cassius  is  well  aware  of  the 
blundering  of  Brutus?  Does  Cassius  think  he  could 
make  better  progress  without  Brutus?  Does  Brutus 
have  any  idea  as  to  what  causes  the  present  behavior 
of  Cassius?  Is  their  reconciliation  in  the  next  scene 
genuine  ? 

IV.  iii.  Doubtless  Shakespeare  thought  that  the 
news  of  Portia's  death  would  cause  even  the  philo- 
sophic Brutus  to  act  in  an  unusual  manner.  But  the 
testy  wrangling  with  Cassius  in  the  early  part  of  the 
scene  is  quite  unworthy  of  Brutus.  It  does  not  belit- 
tle the  greatness  of  Shakespeare  to  acknowledge  that 
once  in  a  while  he  is  at  fault  in  the  presentation  of  a 


204  SHAKESPEARE 

character — especially  in  his  earlier  years,  a  period 
that  may  be  said  to  close  with  Julius  Ccesar. 

IV.  iii.  31.  Cassius  here  asserts  that  he  is  an  abler 
soldier  than  Brutus.  From  the  standpoint  of  the 
practical  management  of  a  revolution  he  is  certainly 
right.  But  note  that  he  denies  the  word  abler  in 
line  56. 

IV.  iii.  76.  In  a  way  Brutus  is  helpless  and  ac- 
knowledges his  dependence  on  Cassius  for  everything 
in  the  way  of  practical  details. 

IV.  iii.  104.  Is  Cassius  sincere?  At  the  opening  of 
the  scene  we  get  the  impression  that  Cassius  is  trying 
to  pick  a  quarrel.  If  this  speech  is  sincere,  we  must 
attribute  the  change  in  Cassius  to  the  effect  of  Brutus' 
noble  personality. 

On  the  other  hand,  if  it  is  a  hollow  piece  of  flattery 
spoken  for  the  purpose  of  mollifying  Brutus  we  must 
discover  why  Cassius,  who  a  moment  before  wished  to 
quarrel,  now  desires  a  reconciliation.  This  is  a  diffi- 
cult discovery  to  make. 

In  the  latter  part  of  this  scene  we  have  in  Brutus' 
tender  consideration  of  Lucius  one  of  those  little 
touches  which  show  how  much  brighter  Brutus  shone 
in  private  than  in  public  life. 

Act  V.  The  fifth  act  is  merely  the  working  out  of  a 
foregone  conclusion.  It  contains  practically  nothing 
but  a  description  of  the  battle.  It  is  not  often  that 
the  last  act  of  one  of  Shakespeare's  plays  contains  so 
little  vital  material. 

V.  i.  45-47.  Cassius  prepares  himself  for  death 
protesting  against  the  policy  of  Brutus. 

V.  iii.  5.  The  last  fatal  slip  of  the  battle  is  set  down 
to  the  long  list  of  blunders  on  the  part  of  Brutus. 


JULIUS  CAESAR  205 

V.  v.  68-81.  Note  the  final  estimate  of  the  char- 
acter of  Brutus  put  into  the  mouths  of  Antony  and 
Octavius. 

In  the  view  of  Brutus'  character  set  forth  above  he 
is  conceived  as  one  unused  to  public  life,  unskilled  in 
the  very  kind  of  work  he  is  called  upon  to  do.  This 
view,  however,  does  not  imply  anything  derogatory 
to  his  character.  Antony  was  right  when  he  called 
Brutus  the  noblest  Roman  of  them  all. 

There  are  critics  who  see  in  all  of  Shakespeare's 
plays  Sunday-school  morals  of  the  conventional  sort. 
Though  this  view  is  usually  obscured  to  me,  there  can 
be  no  doubt  about  the  fact  that  underlying  each  of  the 
great  tragedies  of  Shakespeare  there  is  some  great 
human  truth.     And  this  play  is  no  exception. 

The  situation  may  thus  be  phrased:  it  is  of  one 
who  has  high  ideals,  a  noble  nature,  called  upon  to  ex- 
ecute some  great  task.  The  tools  at  his  service  are 
such  as  he  cannot  use  with  justification  to  his  own 
conscience.  Shall  he  use  them  and  succeed,  or  shall 
he  refuse  them,  live  up  to  his  ideals,  and  fail  nobly? 

Shakespeare  does  not  answer  the  question.  But  he 
shows  that  the  latter  course  will  inevitably  bring 
worldly  ruin. 

It  is  interesting  to  note  that  the  play  which  in- 
volves the  reappearance  of  so  many  of  the  characters 
of  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  is  very  closely  associated 
with  that  play  in  its  general  idea.  In  the  later 
play  Antony  appears  as  a  hero  of  gigantic  propor- 
tions. Again,  throughout  the  play,  public  duty  and 
personal  desire  are  placed  in  opposition.  Everything, 
so  far  as  Antony  is  concerned,  is  sacrificed  to  his  per- 
sonal devotion  to  the  Egyptian  queen.    In  one  way  it 


206  SHAKESPEARE 

is  an  ignoble  passion,  in  another  it  is  the  opposite.  He 
goes  down  grandly,  dragging  the  queen  and  his  fol- 
lowers with  him.  But  our  sympathy  is  with  him  to 
the  very  end.  Shakespeare  has  hardly  achieved  so 
much  in  the  case  of  Brutus. 


CHAPTER  XVII 
HAMLET 

I.    Outline  of  the  Early  History  op  the  Play 

There  are,  or  were,  several  versions  of  the  story 
of  Hamlet  in  Elizabethan  times.  In  the  first  place, 
there  was  a  long  prose  account  known  as  The  Hystorie 
of  Hamblet.  Though  no  longer  extant,  it  is  generally 
supposed  that  a  play  setting  forth  the  same  story  was 
in  existence  as  early  as  1589.  This  is  frequently  re- 
ferred to  as  the  lost-Hamlet,  and  many  suppose 
it  to  have  been  written  by  Thomas  Kyd,  author  of 
The  Spanish  Tragedy.  In  1603,  the  year  after  the 
probable  appearance  of  Hamlet  on  the  stage,  the  first 
quarto  edition  of  the  play  was  published.  This  differs 
in  many  respects  from  the  second  quarto  of  1 604.  And 
the  text  of  the  Folio,  1623,  differs  in  a  few  respects 
from  that  of  the  second  quarto.  The  texts  of  the  sec- 
ond quarto  and  of  the  Folio  are  evidently  but  slightly 
differing  versions  of  the  same  play,  and  they  are  com- 
bined to  produce  the  currently  accepted  text  of  to- 
day. 

The  extraordinary  differences  between  the  first  and 
the  second  quarto,  appearing  as  they  did  from  the 
press  so  close  together,  has  given  rise  to  endless  crit- 
ical discussion.  There  are  three  possible  suppositions : 
1.  The  first  quarto  may  be  Kyd's  supposedly  lost  play 
207 


208  SHAKESPEARE 

or  a  version  of  it.  2.  It  may  be  an  earlier  play  of  the 
same  subject  by  Shakespeare  himself.  3.  It  may  be  a 
pirated  edition  of  Shakespeare's  play  which  called  into 
existence  quarto  two,  the  true  version,  as  a  mere  mat- 
ter of  financial  protection.  I  incline  to  a  firm  belief 
in  the  latter  hypothesis. 

I  do  not  think  that  it  can  be  Kyd's  play.  So  far 
as  we  know,  there  are  extant  but  two  of  his  plays. 
One  of  them,  The  Spanish  Tragedy,  is,  when  judged 
by  contemporary  standards,  remarkable  for  its  ex- 
cellence. The  other,  Soliman  and  Perseda,  judged  by 
the  same  standards  is  as  remarkable  for  its  lack  of 
excellence.  At  any  rate,  neither  one  resembles  the 
other,  or  shows  any  evidence  of  self-imitation. 

Later  I  shall  try  to  show  that  the  resemblance  be- 
tween The  Spanish  Tragedy  of  Kyd  and  the  Hamlet 
of  Shakespeare  is  so  close  that  we  are  driven  to  the 
conclusion  that  the  former  served  as  a  model  to  the 
latter.  And  the  main  points  of  this  resemblance  are 
visible  even  in  the  first  quarto.  It  does  not  seem  to 
me  likely  that  Kyd  would  thus  copy  his  own  earlier 
effort — for  four  reasons:  1.  There  is  no  confirma- 
tory evidence  of  the  fact.  2.  The  two  extant  plays 
suggest  diversity  of  work  rather  than  close  self-imi- 
tation. 3.  The  copying  of  an  earlier  skeleton  plot  is 
not  unlike  the  practice  of  Shakespeare.  4.  It  is  a 
mere  matter  of  personal  taste,  but  to  me  the  bad 
points  of  the  quarto  are  unworthy  of  Kyd,  and  the 
good  points  more  suggestive  of  Shakespeare  than  of 
the  earlier  playwright. 

Nor  do  I  think  the  play  to  be  an  earlier  play  by 
Shakespeare.  Its  crudeness  in  parts  is  so  great  that 
it  must  have  been  written  by  Shakespeare,  if  at  all, 


HAMLET  209 

at  a  very  early  date.  Yet  Titus  Andronicus,  Shake- 
speare's earliest  tragedy,  is  so  superior  to  it  as  to  sug- 
gest a  wide  difference  in  their  dates.  Yet  Titus  An- 
dronicus must  have  been  written  very  early  in  Shake- 
speare's career. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  contemporary  conditions  of 
literary  piracy  seem  to  account  plausibly  for  all,  or 
practically  all,  of  the  essential  differences  between 
the  first  and  the  second  quarto.  It  was  the  usual 
custom  of  that  day  to  keep  popular  plays  unpublished 
till  the  temporary  stage  popularity  had  waned.  Then, 
if  a  further  penny  could  be  turned  by  publication,  the 
companies  did  not  scruple  to  do  so.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  crooked  practices  that  obtained  among 
publishers  prompted  them  to  resort  to  all  sorts  of 
underhand  means  in  order  to  procure  a  copy  of  the 
text.  They  would  bribe  the  players,  doubtless  resort 
to  theft  if  necessary,  or  send  stenographers  to  take 
down  the  play  while  it  was  being  acted. 

There  was  no  adequate  system  of  shorthand  writ- 
ing in  vogue  at  that  time.  Hence  one,  in  taking  down 
the  play,  would  perforce  leave  many  gaps  to  be  filled 
in  later  from  memory.  As  this  is  a  student  handbook, 
I  shall  not  go  into  the  case  thoroughly.  But  in  my 
opinion  a  close  comparison  of  the  two  quartos  suggests 
that  the  former  in  the  main  could  very  easily  be  the 
result  of  the  work  of  such  an  imperfect  stenographer 
and  hack-writer's  attempt  to  take  down  and  subse- 
quently fill  out  the  play  as  represented  by  the  second 
quarto. 

Of  course,  this  theory  does  not  explain  everything. 
If  it  did,  there  would  be  no  case  left  for  believers  in 
the  other  hypothesis.     And  a  student  who  would  go 


210  SHAKESPEARE 

into  the  case  more  thoroughly  should  study  both  the 
quartos  carefully  and  all  the  attendant  conditions  of 
contemporary  theatrical  life  and  practice.  It  is  suffi- 
cient to  say  here  that  in  my  opinion  such  an  examina- 
tion not  only  gives  to  this  explanation  far  greater 
validity  than  to  either  of  the  other  two,  but  it  also 
gives  sufficient  validity  to  it  to  warrant  its  acceptance 
despite  a  few  unexplained  details  that  appear  to  me 
on  the  whole  as  trifling  in  comparison. 

If  this  explanation  be  the  right  one  there  remains 
no  difficulty  in  explaining  the  appearance  of  the  sec- 
ond quarto.  In  accordance  with  current  practice 
Shakespeare's  company  refused  to  publish  the  play. 
A  publisher  got  hold  of  the  garbled  copy  issued  from 
the  press  as  the  first  quarto.  As  the  play,  though  in 
a  mutilated  condition,  was  now  on  the  book  market  the 
theatrical  company  who  owned  the  play  naturally  de- 
sired to  reap  whatever  advantage  was  due  to  publica- 
tion. Hence  they  came  forward  promptly  with  the 
true  text. 


II.    "  The  Spanish  Tragedy  "  and  "  Hamlet  "  * 

The  attribution  of  the  lost  play  of  Hamlet  to 
Thomas  Kyd  lends  additional  interest  to  the  relations 
between  Kyd  and  Shakespeare.  Resemblances  of 
many  kinds  are  noticeable  among  the  works  of  the  two 
writers.  Such  a  coincidence  as  the  following  can 
hardly  be  accidental: 

*  This  note  and  most  of  what  is  said  subsequently  re- 
garding the  "  Mouse-trap  "  have  appeared  in  "  The  Sewanee 
Review." 


HAMLET  211 

"  I  had  not  thought  that  Alezandro's  heart 
Had  been  envenomed  with  such  extreme  hate: 
But  now  I  see  that  words  have  several  works, 
And  there's  no  credit  in  the  countenance." 

— Sp.  Tr.,  III.  i. 

"There's  no  art 
To  find  the  mind's  construction  in  the  face," 

are  the  words  of  Duncan.  It  is,  however,  not  in  such 
verbal  similarities  that  we  find  a  resemblance  between 
the  dramatists  of  remarkable  degree;  it  is  rather  in 
the  similarity  of  treatment  and  conception  between 
the  great  play  of  Kyd  and  the  masterpiece  of  his  suc- 
cessor. 

The  motive  of  both  plays  is  revenge,  in  each  for  a 
murder.  In  Hamlet  the  murder  is  committed  before 
the  beginning  of  the  play  and  is  revealed  by  super- 
natural means.  In  The  Spanish  Tragedy  the  murder, 
which  forms  a  part  of  the  action,  is  revealed  by  means 
of  a  mysterious  letter.  None  will  forget  the  burst  of 
human  grief  that  almost  vanquishes  Hamlet  at  the  mo- 
ment he  hears  the  details  of  his  beloved  father's 
death.  Though  there  is  no  attempt  to  portray  Hie- 
ronimo  fully  as  a  human  character  of  many  sides,  he 
experiences  sufficient  grief  and  sorrow  to  cause  him  to 
lose  his  mental  balance  temporarily. 

I  hope  to  show  that  there  is  reason  to  believe  that 
Shakespeare  had  The  Spanish  Tragedy  in  mind  while 
writing  Hamlet  and  that,  though  he  followed  it  as  a 
model,  he  improved  it  at  many  points.  It  is  note- 
worthy as  an  illustration  that  at  the  point  in  Hamlet, 
corresponding  with  the  above  suggestion  from  Hie- 
ronimo's  behavior,  Hamlet  makes  the  speech  which 
contains  the  phrase  "  To  put  an  antic  disposition  on." 


212  SHAKESPEARE 

Shakespeare,  however,  was,  I  think,  too  shrewd  a 
judge  of  human  nature  to  imagine  that  Hamlet,  who 
had  just  been  startled  out  of  sane  behavior  by  the 
terrible  revelation  of  the  ghost,  could  in  the  same 
moment,  like  Hieronimo,  be  so  self-possessed  as  to 
plan  in  a  moment  the  ruse  of  assuming  a  future  cloak 
of  madness.  The  "  antic  disposition  "  is  doubtless  a 
reference  to  the  "  wild,  whirling  words  "  that  his  fel- 
lows could  not  understand,  the  general  incoherent  be- 
havior that  has  preceded  the  utterance  of  the  line,  and 
which  Hamlet  fears  may  occur  again  under  a  similar 
strain. 

The  author  of  the  crime  is  revealed  to  Hamlet  by 
the  ghost — to  Hieronimo  by  a  letter.  Both  persons 
instantly  suspect  the  trustworthiness  of  their  informa- 
tion. Hamlet's  doubt  is  due  to  his  belief  in  a  well- 
known  Elizabethan  superstition:  namely,  that  the 
devil  possessed  the  power  to  appear  in  the  likeness  of 
a  dead  person  in  order  to  tempt  a  living.  This  is  a 
doubt  shared  likewise  by  Horatio  and  may  well  bid 
Hamlet  pause  till  he  has  better  proof.  Hieronimo, 
however,  suspects  from  no  cause.  The  detail  is  un- 
motived. 

However,  both  men  suspect  and  both  of  them  re- 
solve to  test  the  truth  of  the  information  which  they 
have  received.  Hamlet  most  carefully  plans  the 
"  Mouse-trap  "  which,  though  it  turns  out  in  an  unex- 
pected way,  convinces  him  of  his  uncle's  guilt.  Hie- 
ronimo asserts  that  he  must  take  time  for  investiga- 
tion, but  in  reality  does  nothing.  He  merely  waits 
till  a  second  more  convincing  letter  comes  to  him  by 
accident.  Just  why  this  letter  should  be  written  is  not 
quite  clear.    It  is  intended  by  Kyd  to  convey  informa- 


HAMLET  213 

tion  to  Heironimo,  but  it  is  intended  by  its  writer, 
Pedringano,  to  convey  an  appeal  for  relief  to  Lorenzo. 
Yet  the  substance  of  the  letter  is  that  most  calculated 
to  harden  Lorenzo's  heart.  Hieronimo,  who  before 
was  so  ready  to  doubt  the  revealing  letter,  accepts  this 
as  true  in  every  respect  and  considers  his  doubts  as 
completely  set  at  rest.  Both  Hamlet  and  Hieronimo 
are  now  ready  to  act  upon  their  original  information 
— and  both  allow  their  revenge  to  be  delayed  till  the 
end  of  the  play. 

How  can  we  account  for  this  delay?  The  answer 
to  the  former  case  is  evident.  Hamlet  has  planned 
to  sit  quietly  by  till  the  "  Mouse-trap  "  is  finished  and 
then  compare  notes  with  Horatio  on  his  uncle's  be- 
havior. But  he  is  himself  affected  by  the  scene  be- 
yond the  limits  of  endurance.  By  interrupting  the 
proceedings  too  soon,  Hamlet  causes  the  court  to  dis- 
perse with  the  impression  that  Hamlet,  not  Claudius, 
has  made  an  exhibition  of  himself.  Though  Hamlet 
is  himself  convinced  of  his  uncle's  guilt,  he  realizes 
that  he  has  so  bungled  the  affair  that  he  will  be  unable 
to  convince  others  of  anything  but  his  own  inability  to 
act  with  reason.  In  the  reaction  of  despondency  he 
allows  himself  to  be  drawn  away  from  Denmark;  but 
the  moment  his  spirit  returns  he  hastens  back  to  ac- 
complish his  revenge. 

Why  Hieronimo  delays  is  not  quite  so  evident,  yet  a 
similar  scene  to  the  above  appears  in  the  correspond- 
ing portion  of  The  Spanish  Tragedy.  Immediately 
upon  the  completion  of  his  self-conviction,  Hieronimo 
resolves  to  appeal  to  the  king.  He  has  every  reason  to 
believe  his  appeal  will  be  successful.  Yet,  when  he 
comes  to  the  point,  he  is  so  wrought  up  by  his  emotion 


214  SHAKESPEARE 

that  he  cannot  say  what  he  intended  to  say,  and  at 
last  dashes  off  the  stage  hysterically  mad.  As  in 
Hamlet,  the  impression  left  upon  the  court  is  exactly 
opposite  to  that  intended  by  Hieronimo.  In  conse- 
quence, however,  Hieronimo  merely  remains  quiescent 
till  the  end  of  the  play.  He  has  no  excuse  for  inac- 
tion. When  Bel-Imperia  upbraids  him  for  his  delay 
he  requests  her  to  wait  and  to  expect  great  things, 
but  he  offers  no  defense. 

These  two  scenes  cannot  be  dismissed  without  a 
word  concerning  the  wild  behavior  that  occasionally 
characterizes  both  Hamlet  and  Hieronimo.  This  is 
not  the  place  to  consider  in  detail  the  question  of  Ham- 
let's madness.  He  is  certainly  not  insane  in  the  sense 
that  Lear  is  insane;  nor  is  he  believed  insane  by  any 
of  the  shrewder  intellects  of  the  play — nor  is  Hieron- 
imo. The  key  to  their  wild  behavior  is  the  same. 
Both  have  exceptionally  passionate  natures.  The  rev- 
elation of  the  ghost,  the  "  Mouse-trap,"  and  the  burial 
of  Ophelia  act  so  powerfully  upon  Hamlet's  nature 
that  he  temporarily  loses  self-control — control,  how- 
ever, which  he  immediately  regains.  The  same  is  true 
of  the  character  of  Hieronimo. 

There  are  a  few  other  similarities  between  the 
two  characters.  Immediately  after  the  failure  of  the 
"  Mouse-trap  "  during  a  conversation  with  the  queen, 
Hamlet  conjures  up  a  vision  of  his  father  come  to 
chide  him  for  his  long  delay. 

"  Do  you  come,"  says  Hamlet,  "  your  tardy  son  to 
chide,  That,  lapsed  in  time  and  passion,  lets  go  by 
The  important  acting  of  your  dread  command?  "  Im- 
mediately after  his  failure  to  convey  his  appeal  to  the 
king,  Hieronimo  conjures  up  a  vision  of  his  son  come 


HAMLET  215 

to  chide  him  for  his  delay.  "And  art  thou  come,  Ho- 
ratio/' says  Hieronimo,  "  from  the  depth  To  ask  for 
justice  on  this  upper  earth,  to  tell  thy  father  thou  art 
unrevenged?  " 

Hamlet  is  spurred  back  to  activity  from  the  period 
of  despondency  following  the  failure  of  the  "  Mouse- 
trap "  by  the  accidental  sight  of  a  company  of  Fortin- 
bras's  soldiers  who  remind  him  of  his  own  unfinished 
task  of  revenge.  Similarly  Hieronimo  is  spurred  back 
into  action  by  the  sight  of  a  handkerchief  dyed  in  his 
son's  blood  which  he  accidentally  draws  from  his 
pocket. 

When  the  end  of  the  play  is  reached  and  the  of- 
fenders are  killed,  both  Hamlet  and  Hieronimo  recog- 
nize the  necessity  of  some  public  justification  of  their 
actions.  Hieronimo  delivers  his  own  plea.  For  this, 
however,  Hamlet's  span  of  life  is  insufficient.  Yet  he 
dies,  begging  Horatio  do  the  office  for  him : 

"  Absent  thee  from  felicity  awhile, 
And  in  this  harsh  world  draw  thy  breath  in  pain, 
To  tell  my  story." 

With  this  close  parallelism  in  mind  is  one  not  likely 
to  hazard  the  inference  that  Shakespeare's  play  bears 
less  resemblance  to  the  lost  Hamlet  than  to  The  Span- 
ish Tragedy? 

It  is  hard  to  believe  that  the  first  quarto,  which  in 
all  its  larger  and  broader  qualities  so  closely  resembles 
the  second,  bears  any  close  resemblance  to  the  play 
by  Kyd.  This,  if  considered  in  the  light  of  the  above 
list  of  parallels,  implies  an  almost  inconceivable  de- 
gree of  self-imitation.  On  the  other  hand,  one  can 
easily  imagine   that  Shakespeare,  who  borrowed  not 


216  SHAKESPEARE 

only  plots,  but  other  dramatic  details  that  proved 
successful,  would  take  for  his  model  the  most  popular 
tragedy  of  the  time,  and  adhere  to  it  in  the  main  with 
the  same  fidelity  illustrated,  for  instance,  in  Romeo 
and  Juliet.  Yet  he  did  in  Hamlet  what  he  had  already 
done  in  Romeo  and  Juliet.  He  transferred  the  unpo- 
etic  dross  of  the  original  into  the  poetic  ore  associated 
in  our  minds  only  with  Shakespearian  genius. 

III.    Notes  on  the  Text 

I.  i.  23.  Note  that  Horatio  is  introduced  as  skepti- 
cal regarding  the  story  he  has  heard  of  the  ghost. 
Yet  his  subsequent  behavior  (see  I.  iv.  70)  shows  that 
he  believes  in  ghosts.  The  convincing  of  the  skeptic 
Horatio  contributes  to  the  vividness  and  reality  of  the 
situation  here.  (See  note  at  the  end  of  the  chapter 
relative  to  the  Elizabethan  staging  of  the  play,  and 
the  article  of  Mr.  Baker  therein  cited.  This  scene  was 
probably  acted  on  a  darkened  stage.) 

I.  i.  42.  "  Thou  art  a  scholar."  Critics  have  cited 
the  fact  that  an  old  superstition  implies  that  a  ghost 
should  be  conversed  with  in  Latin;  therefore  Horatio, 
who  was  a  scholar,  was  urged  forward  as  spokesman. 
But  the  critics  seem  to  have  overlooked  the  fact  that 
Horatio  does  not  address  the  ghost  in  Latin  when  the 
time  comes  to  speak.  In  fact,  there  is  probably  no 
allusion  whatever  to  this  superstition  here.  The 
others  are  slightly  frightened,  a  good  deal  terrified, 
if  we  are  to  believe  the  account  given  by  Horatio  to 
Hamlet  later.  He  then  says  that  they  were  almost 
distilled  to  jelly  by  the  act  of  fear.  Horatio,  however, 
is  of  superior  education,  has  boasted  of  his  skepticism. 


HAMLET  217 

His  companions  urge  him  forward  just  as  a  child 
will  say,  "  You  are  the  biggest.    You  go  first." 

I.  i.  79,  etc.  How  easily  the  correlative  information 
needed  as  an  introduction  is  inserted.  Fortinbras, 
though  a  minor  figure,  plays  a  very  important  part  in 
the  drama. 

I.  i.  126-139-  One  must  understand  this  passage 
in  order  to  read  it  correctly.  There  was  a  supersti- 
tion of  the  time  which  held  that  a  ghost,  though  en- 
dowed with  supernatural  powers,  was  limited  in  many 
directions.  For  instance,  it  was  necessary,  perhaps, 
to  address  him  by  the  proper  name  in  order  that  he 
be  able  to  speak.  This  is  why  Hamlet  (I.  iv.  44), 
says,  "  I'll  call  thee  Hamlet,  King,  father,  royal 
Dane."  We  must  imagine  a  sufficient  pause  after  each 
name  for  Hamlet  to  discover  whether  he  has  used  the 
right  epithet. 

Again,  it  was  believed  that  a  ghost  could  not  speak 
till  he  was  addressed  relative  to  the  subject  upper- 
most in  his  mind.  This  is  the  superstition  involved 
in  the  passage  cited  above.  The  ghost  refuses  to 
speak,  line  129-  So  Horatio  guesses.  He  asks  if  the 
ghost  wishes  to  talk  regarding  anything  advantageous 
to  himself,  Horatio.  Then  there  is  a  pause.  The 
silence  of  the  ghost  shows  that  this  is  not  that  regard- 
ing which  he  wishes  to  speak.  Horatio  tries  again. 
"  Is  it  relative  to  the  welfare  of  your  country?  "  he 
asks.  There  is  another  pause.  This  is  not  it.  Does 
the  ghost  wish  to  speak  of  hidden  treasure?  Con- 
tinued silence  answers  no.  And  so  the  phantom  dis- 
appears. 

There  was  still  another  superstition  which  held  that 
a  ghost  would  remain  silent  unless  addressed  by  the 


218  SHAKESPEARE 

proper  person.  As  the  ghost  has  failed  to  answer 
Horatio,  the  latter  thought  comes  into  his  mind.  The 
ghost  would  not  speak  to  the  others.  He  would  not 
speak  to  him.  Who  is  the  person  who  ought  to  ad- 
dress him?  Probably  his  son,  the  younger  Hamlet. 
So  they  decide  to  ask  the  prince  to  share  their  watch 
with  them. 

J.  ii.  We  may  look  upon  this  as  the  first  formal, 
public  gathering  of  the  court  since  the  death  of  the 
king  and  the  marriage  of  his  widow  to  his  brother 
Claudius. 

We  are  told  in  this  scene  much  of  the  introductory 
material,  are  introduced  to  most  of  the  remaining  char- 
acters. Laertes  is  given  permission  to  depart.  He  is 
kept  in  mind  by  several  touches  hereafter,  but  does  not 
appear  as  an  important  character  till  act  IV. 

In  the  structure  of  this  play  we  find  the  two-hero 
type  exemplified  in  its  perfection  by  Othello.  Clau- 
dius and  Hamlet  are  the  two  opposites.  The  char- 
acter of  the  former  should  be  scanned  carefully 
throughout  the  play. 

I.  ii.  65.  This  is  the  first  line  spoken  by  Hamlet. 
It  should  be  examined  carefully.  Its  literal  meaning 
is:  A  little  more  than  kin  (uncle  by  blood,  step- 
father by  marriage)  and  less  than  kind  (unnatural;  a 
reference  to  the  indecent  haste  with  which  he  has  mar- 
ried his  brother's  widow).  In  the  Tudor  Edition  this 
line  is  marked  "  aside."  Some  critics  do  not  so  mark 
it.  I  do  not  think  it  matters  much.  In  either  case  the 
implication  is  the  same.  Shakespeare's  first  line  at- 
tributed to  Hamlet  shows:  1.  That  he  is  out  of  har- 
mony with  his  uncle,  the  present  king.  2.  That  some- 
thing is  preying  deeply  on  his  mind.     In  the  conver- 


HAMLET  219 

sation  that  follows  the  king  shows  that  he  is  either 
ignorant  of  the  former  condition  or  that  he  pretends 
to  neglect  it.  His  words,  however,  the  queen's,  and 
Hamlet's  all  emphasize  the  second.  Something  ex- 
traordinary is  preying  upon  his  mind.  It  is  not  fully 
accounted  for  by  outward  circumstances.  It  is  not  yet 
fully  understood  even  by  Hamlet  himself.  It  is  only 
cleared  up  later. 

I.  ii.  129,  etc.  This  soliloquy  shows,  but  not  yet 
quite  fully,  what  is  preying  upon  Hamlet's  mind.  It 
is  his  mother's  hasty  marriage.  He  idolized  her,  and 
her  over-hasty  marriage  shattered  his  mind's  image  of 
a  superior  woman. 

I.  ii.  226,  etc.  There  is  nothing  impossible  to 
Hamlet  about  what  Horatio  says.  Yet  the  former, 
who  can  imagine  easily  the  appearance  of  the  ghost, 
wishes  to  make  sure.  He  has  been  told  that  the 
others  were  terribly  frightened  by  the  appearance  of 
the  apparition  (I.  ii.  205).  So,  as  I  said,  he  wishes 
to  make  sure.  The  only  significance  to  the  rapid 
fire  of  questions  tha'  follows  is  Hamlet's  desire  by 
cross-examination  to  test  the  coherence  of  their  story. 
The  clue  to  Hamlet's  character  throughout  is  justice, 
the  desire  to  go  slow  and  to  be  sure  of  himself  and  his 
cause.    This  is  the  first  example  of  it. 

I.  ii.  256.  Doubt  in  Elizabethan  times  usually 
meant  suspect. 

I.  iii.  Note  that  Laertes  does  not  take  the  idea  of 
Hamlet's  courtship  of  Ophelia  seriously.  Yet  it  is 
serious  and  honest. 

The  Elizabethans  not  only  enjoyed  but  demanded  a 
fair  admixture  of  comedy  with  their  tragedy.  In 
some  plays,  as  in  Othello,  Shakespeare  ignored  this  de- 


220  SHAKESPEARE 

mand.  In  Macbeth  and  in  Hamlet  he  catered  to  it 
only  slightly.  In  the  latter  play  the  grave-diggers  of 
act  V.  and  Polonius  afford  the  comic  element. 

We  must  fancy  Polonius  as  an  old  man  who  has  in 
the  past  been  a  worthy  and  trusted  councilor.  But  he 
has  now  passed  the  zenith  of  his  intellectual  career, 
becoming  a  little  childish.  His  mind  is  most  occupied 
over  trivial  matters.  There  is  a  ludicrous  element  in 
this  scene  about  his  urging  Laertes  forward  in  haste 
for  the  waiting  ship  while  he  simultaneously  detains 
him  to  hear  a  long-winded  declamation  full  of  copy- 
book precepts  relative  to  good  behavior.  And  later 
Polonius  goes  to  the  king  with  an  altogether  erroneous 
interpretation  of  Hamlet's  behavior,  upon  the  truth 
of  which  he  is  willing  to  stake  his  life  and  reputation. 

Polonius  takes  almost  the  same  view  of  Hamlet's 
courtship  of  Ophelia  as  that  taken  by  Laertes.  Does 
Ophelia  believe  what  her   father  and  brother  say? 

I.  iv.  69-78.  There  was  a  belief  in  that  day  and 
generation  that  the  devil  possessed  the  power  of  ap- 
pearing to  living  persons  in  the  semblance  of  some 
deceased  loved  one.  It  is  to  this  detail  that  Horatio 
refers.  Note  how  quickly  he  grasps  the  situation. 
This  apparition  may  be  the  spirit  of  the  dead  king. 
On  the  other  hand  it  may  be  an  evil  spirit  come  to  do 
harm  to  Hamlet.  This  doubt  figures  largely  in  what 
follows.  Hamlet  has  no  thought  of  it  in  scene  v.  of 
the  first  act.  By  the  opening  of  act  II.  he  has  begun 
to  share  Horatio's  doubts.  It  is  to  test  the  truth  of 
the  ghost's  story,  incidentally  to  discover  whether  it 
is  a  true  ghost  or  an  evil  spirit,  that  he  plans  the 
"  Mouse-trap." 

I.   v.  40.    "  Oh  my  prophetic   soul !    My   uncle !  " 


HAMLET  221 

This  exclamation  has  been  explained  as  indicative  of 
the  fact  that  Hamlet  had  already  suspected  his  uncle's 
guilt.  I  do  not,  however,  find  any  justification  for  this 
interpretation.  In  the  first  place,  I  conceive  it  to  be 
an  exclamation  of  surprise.  If,  however,  Hamlet  has 
not  suspected  his  uncle,  to  what  does  he  refer? 

Now,  Hamlet  is  overwhelmingly  depressed  in  spirits 
and  he  hates  his  uncle  viciously.  The  excuse  for  the 
low  state  of  his  spirits  is  to  be  found  partly  in  the 
grief  due  to  his  father's  death.  But,  as  Claudius  aptly 
remarks,  strong  men  do  not  collapse  under  such  cir- 
cumstances ;  and  Hamlet  knows  that  the  king  is  right. 
Furthermore,  Hamlet  is  much  distressed  over  his 
mother's  hasty  marriage.  In  a  way,  it  has  shattered 
one  of  his  ideals  of  womanhood.  Yet  Hamlet  knows 
that  under  ordinary  circumstances  he  could  have  borne 
even  this  with  a  fair  degree  of  equanimity. 

And  why  does  he  hate  Claudius?  Partly  because 
Claudius  has  usurped  the  throne,  and  partly  because 
he  has  married  the  queen.  Yet  these  motives  hardly 
justify  Hamlet's  extreme  aversion  to  the  king. 

In  other  words,  Claudius,  the  queen,  and  Hamlet 
himself  all  feel  that  the  extremity  of  his  emotion  is 
not  fully  accounted  for  by  the  known  facts.  And  now, 
at  the  ghost's  revelation,  Hamlet  suddenly  realizes 
that  there  is  a  reason  sufficient  to  account  for  all  his 
feelings;  and,  inasmuch  as  he  had  had  no  previous 
knowledge  or  suspicion  of  the  fact,  the  feeling  itself 
was  in  a  way  prophetic. 

The  line  should  be  read  as  two  distinct  exclama- 
tions, not  as  one,  as  is  implied  by  the  punctuation  of 
some  texts  of  the  play. 

At  the  end  of  scene  iv.  Hamlet  departs  with  the 


222  SHAKESPEARE 

ghost  against  Horatio's  will.  We  must  fancy  that  his 
lingering  companions  on  the  ramparts  of  the  castle 
wait  a  reasonable  time  for  his  return;  then  decide  to 
hunt  Hamlet  up.  They  find  him  towards  the  end  of 
scene  v.  Hamlet  has  just  heard  the  astonishing  rev- 
elation of  the  details  of  his  father's  murder.  For  a 
moment  he  is  completely  overcome.  His  high-strung 
nature  is  unable  to  retain  its  calm  self-control.  He 
talks  nonsense  (the  "  wild  and  whirling  words  "  of 
line  133).  And  he  acts  ridiculously.  He  desires  an 
oath  against  which  the  others  protest.  However,  when 
Hamlet  holds  up  the  cross-shaped  hilt  of  his  sword  for 
them  to  take  oath  upon  they  agree  to  his  whim.  Just 
at  the  critical  moment  Hamlet  changes  his  mind  and 
drags  them  off  to  some  more  likely  position  for  the 
oath  (line  156).  And  still  again  when  they  are  will- 
ing to  humor  him  with  an  oath  he  drags  them  to  still 
another  place  of  vantage  (line  163). 

During  the  next  few  lines  Hamlet  begins  to  recover 
his  self-control.  He  realizes  how  he  has  been  acting. 
He  recalls  Horatio's  fears  at  their  last  parting.  He 
knows  that  Horatio  must  be  saying  to  himself,  "  This 
is  just  what  I  expected."  Yet  Hamlet  is  greatly 
wrought.  He  has  no  plans  for  the  future.  He  has  not 
had  time  even  to  conjecture  what  will  be  the  sequel  to 
all  this.  He  has  not  yet  decided  whether  or  not  he  will 
relate  the  whole  affair  in  confidence  to  Horatio.  But 
there  is  one  thing  he  is  sure  of.  The  present  meeting 
with  the  ghost  has  momentarily  thrown  him  off  his 
balance.  It  may  happen  again  in  the  future.  If  so, 
he  hopes  his  friends  and  companions  will  not  betray 
him  by  referring  to  the  incidents  of  to-night.  In 
other  words:  "  If  at  any  time  in  the  future  you  see  me 


HAMLET  223 

act  as  strangely  (put  an  antic  disposition  on,  line 
172)  as  you  have  seen  me  act  in  the  last  live  minutes, 
do  not  shrug  your  shoulders,  look  wise,  and  say,  '  That 
is  just  the  way  he  behaved  himself  one  night  after 
meeting  his  father's  ghost  upon  the  ramparts.'  " 

Many  critics  have  assumed  that  in  the  excitement 
of  the  moment  Hamlet  has  found  time  to  formulate 
definite  plans  for  the  future  which  involve  the  as- 
sumption of  madness.  They  quote  this  line  as  a  ref- 
erence to  the  intention  of  assuming  insanity  in  the 
future  as  a  cloak  to  his  plans.  To  me,  however,  it  is 
perfectly  clear  that  the  exclamation  does  not  point 
forward,  but  backward  to  the  antic  behavior  that  has 
just  been  acted  out  on  the  stage.  It  would  at  least  be 
fresh  in  the  mind  of  the  audience,  and  it  is  hard  to  con- 
ceive how  the  audience  would  fail  to  connect  the  two. 

II.  i.  One  of  the  cleverest  dramatic  devices  of  the 
play  involves  the  prominence  of  Laertes  in  the  fourth 
act.  It  is  needful  that  we  do  not  forget  him  during 
his  absence  throughout  the  first  three  acts.  The  open- 
ing portion  of  this  scene  is  largely  for  the  purpose  of 
keeping  Laertes  in  the  mind  of  the  audience. 

II.  i.  75-100.  This  passage  should  be  studied  in 
connection  with  III.  i.  90-158.  One  may  profitably 
return  to  this  discussion  after  reading  the  section  de- 
voted to  Hamlet's  madness.  The  result  of  these  two 
meetings  of  Hamlet  and  Ophelia  is:  1.  Ophelia  is  con- 
vinced of  Hamlet's  madness.  2.  Polonius  is  confirmed 
in  his  belief  of  Hamlet's  madness.  Yet  Hamlet  is 
acting  quite  rationally. 

Let  us  for  a  moment  try  to  fancy  what  has  been 
passing  recently  in  the  mind  of  Hamlet  relative  to 
Ophelia.     There  can  be  no  doubt  that  Hamlet  is  hon- 


224  SHAKESPEARE 

estly  in  love  with  her.  Yet  the  gross-minded  Laertes 
doubts  the  fact.  Polonius,  while  not  taking  quite  so 
low  a  view  of  the  matter  as  that  taken  by  his  son,  con- 
siders marriage  as  out  of  the  question  because  of  the 
social  difference  in  rank  between  his  daughter  and  the 
prince.  It  is  to  prevent  Ophelia  from  falling  hope- 
lessly in  love  that  Polonius  commands  her  to  return 
Hamlet's  presents  and  letters  and  otherwise  cause  a 
break  in  his  attentions  which  can  only  result  in  harm. 
Now  look  at  this  situation  and  its  results  through 
the  eyes  of  Hamlet.  It  must  be  remembered  that  he 
has  received  no  explanation  of  Ophelia's  conduct.  He 
is  honestly  in  love  with  her.  She  seemed  to  be  so  with 
him.  He  was  heir-apparent  to  the  throne.  His  father 
died.  His  uncle  seized  the  crown.  Immediately  he 
is  jilted  by  Ophelia.  And  very  shortly  before  this 
his  mother's  hasty  marriage  has  shattered  his  belief 
in  womanhood.  What  more  likely  than  that  Hamlet 
should  conceive  Ophelia  to  be  a  mere  fortune-hunter 
who  thrust  him  aside  when  he  lost  the  throne?  And 
much  of  the  pathos  lies  in  the  fact  that  he  is  so  com- 
pletely mistaken.  However,  under  this  belief  he  ap- 
proaches Ophelia  (II.  i.  75).  But  he  still  loves  her. 
He  cannot  trust  himself  to  speak,  departing  in  dis- 
tressed silence.  On  the  second  meeting,  however 
(III.  i.  90),  he  speaks  his  mind  plainly.  Though  there 
is  down  deep  in  his  heart  left  some  of  that  former  love, 
to  come  to  the  surface  violently  at  the  scene  by  Ophe- 
lia's grave  in  act  V.,  Hamlet  feels  now  only  contempt 
for  the  woman  who  could  treat  him  as  she  has  done. 
Claudius,  who  secretly  overhears  the  whole  conver- 
sation, sees  no  sign  of  love  or  affection.  When  Hamlet 
tells  Ophelia  over  and  over  again  to  go  to  a  nunnery 


HAMLET  225 

he  means  just  what  he  says.  Penance  and  a  monastic 
life  are  necessary  to  purge  her  of  her  sinful  nature. 

II.  ii.  In  this  scene  Polonius  proposes  his  theory 
of  madness.  Had  Shakespeare  desired  the  audience 
to  believe  in  this  explanation  would  he  have  originated 
it  in  the  foolish  mind  of  Polonius?  or  would  he  have 
propounded  it  with  so  much  in  the  way  of  amusing 
accompaniment?  In  the  conversation  that  follows 
even  Polonius  can  see  some  method.  It  is  hardly 
likely  that  an  Elizabethan  audience  would  fail  of  the 
matter  altogether. 

Pursuant  to  the  commands  of  the  king  and  queen 
given  at  the  beginning  of  the  scene,  Rosencrantz  and 
Guildenstern  here  approach  Hamlet  to  discover  if 
possible  the  cause  of  his  distress.  They  have  probably 
been  informed  of  the  madness  proposition  suggested 
by  Polonius.  Hamlet  immediately  sees  through  them. 
Line  305,  so  shall  my  anticipation,  etc.,  may  be  para- 
phrased as  followed:  You  have  been  sent  by  the  king 
and  queen  to  worm  something  out  of  me.  If  I  tell  you 
of  my  own  accord  you  have  certainly  not  got  it  out  of 
me.  You  may  tell  them  so,  thus  befriending  me  and 
saving  your  own  conscience. 

II.  ii.  396,  397.  There  is  nothing  irrational  about 
this  speech.  Handsaw  means  heronshaw.  The  alluj 
sion  to  the  wind  would  be  understood  by  any  one  fa- 
miliar with  the  out-of-door  sport  of  falconry.  The 
sentence  means:  I  am  not  mad  at  all,  but  so  possessed 
of  my  reason  that  I  can  distinguish  the  trifling  differ- 
ence between  a  hawk  and  a  heron  in  mid-air  a  long 
way  off.* 

*  A  description  of  the  point  in  falconry  referred  to  here 
is  to  be  found  in  my  Elizabethan  People,  page  117. 


226  SHAKESPEARE 

II.  ii.  361.  The  Elizabethan  plays  are  full  of  an- 
achronisms to  which  the  audience  of  that  day  had  no 
objection.  Notwithstanding  the  fact  that  the  setting 
of  this  play  is  Denmark  of  an  earlier  time  the  con- 
versation in  which  the  above  line  occurs  is  relative  to 
the  Elizabethan  companies  of  boy  actors  who  for  a 
time  proved  such  formidable  rivals  to  the  older  com- 
panies of  men  actors. 

II.  ii.  454-634.  This  passage  is  so  intimately  con- 
nected with  the  treatment  of  the  "  Mouse-trap  "  that 
it  is  difficult  to  determine  which  should  be  considered 
first.  I  think,  on  the  whole,  that  it  is  best  to  point  out 
the  significance  of  each  scene  first,  returning  later  to 
point  out  some  technical  matters  in  relation  to  this 
passage. 

Note,  however,  this  situation.  At  the  end  of  act 
I.  Hamlet  firmly  believed  in  the  honesty  of  the  ghost. 
During  the  interval  between  acts  I.  and  II.  he  has  be- 
gun to  share  Horatio's  doubts.  At  least,  if  he  does  not 
share  them,  he  is  not  so  positive  in  his  conviction  as 
to  discard  them  altogether.  He  admits  a  possibility  of 
their  truth.  One  of  the  keys  to  Hamlet's  character  is 
absolute  justice.  He  will  not  proceed  till  he  knows 
the  truth.  How  shall  he  find  out?  He  cannot  tell. 
So  far  he  has  thought  much  but  done  nothing.  The 
good  acting  and  the  declamation  of  the  players  affect 
him  powerfully.  They  can  do  as  a  mere  matter  of 
hire  and  pay.  But  he  himself  has  been  able  to  do 
nothing,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  his  motive  is 
stronger  than  theirs  by  a  thousand-fold.  So  he  is 
shamed  into  action,  immediately  planning  the  "  Mouse- 
trap." 

This  passage  will  be  returned  to  in  order  to  point 


HAMLET  227 

out  the  significance  of  the  form  of  verse  spoken  here 
by  the  players  and  that  spoken  by  them  while  enact- 
ing the  "  Mouse-trap." 

III.  i.  53.  This  is  the  first  hint  that  the  audience 
has  received  relative  to  the  truth  or  the  falsehood  of 
the  ghost's  revelation.  Up  to  this  point  the  audience 
would  be  as  doubtful  as  Horatio  or  Hamlet  as  to 
whether  the  apparition  was  a  true  ghost  or  a  dis- 
honest devil.  And  so  easily  might  the  qualified  hint 
here  given  be  overlooked,  Shakespeare  has  repeated 
the  information  later  with  more  emphasis  at  a  most 
critical  moment  (III.  iii.  37). 

III.  i.  28-195.  In  this  passage  the  king  overhears 
all.  The  eavesdropping  device  was  planned  when 
Polonius  came  to  the  king  with  the  explanation  of 
Hamlet's  behavior  based  upon  madness.  It  is  notable 
that  at  the  end  of  the  incident  the  very  shrewd  Clau- 
dius, instead  of  being  convinced  that  Hamlet  is  mad, 
is  convinced  of  the  contrary. 

THE   MOUSE-TRAP 

At  the  risk  of  monotonous  repetition  I  shall  repeat 
one  or  two  of  the  details  already  mentioned.  For  I 
consider  this  the  most  important  passage  in  the 
play. 

The  usual  interpretation  of  this  part  of  the  third 
act  of  Hamlet  renders  some  of  the  protagonist's  sub- 
sequent actions  difficult  if  not  impossible  to  explain. 
If  Hamlet,  as  is  so  often  supposed,  was  completely 
successful  in  the  plot  by  which  he  put  his  uncle's  in- 
tegrity to  the  test,  it  is  hard  to  understand  why  he 
made  no  immediate  use  of  it,  or  why  he  gave  himself 


228  SHAKESPEARE 

up  so  easily  to  the  diversion  caused  by  the  projected 
journey  to  England.  He  could  not  have  set  out  in 
ignorance  of  his  companions'  character,  for  Hamlet 
acknowledges  to  the  queen  that  he  would  trust  them  as 
he  would  adders  fanged,  an  assertion  indicative  of  his 
complete  distrust  of  Rosencrantz  and  Guildenstern. 
Hamlet  has  set  out  upon  a  course  of  revenge,  and  he 
had  held  back  from  its  accomplishment  for  certain 
reasons  that  the  "  Mousetrap  "  was  intended  to  re- 
move. If  they  were  removed  by  the  complete  success 
of  the  plot,  why  did  he  not  continue  as  he  had  planned 
in  advance?  He  does  not,  however,  but  gently,  with- 
out opposition  consents  to  his  own  removal  from  the 
scene  of  action  at  the  very  moment  which  most  de- 
mands his  presence,  in  company  of  men  set  over  him 
by  his  enemy  the  king,  men  whom  he  suspects  capable 
of  foul  play  of  the  foulest  kind.  The  suggestion  that 
Shakespeare  winked  at  this  apparent  inconsistency  in 
the  character  of  Hamlet  for  the  purpose  of  ridding 
the  plot  of  him  at  the  time  of  the  reappearance  of 
Laertes  is  hardly  worth  consideration  in  a  play  that 
shows  elsewhere  the  most  careful  construction  even  to 
the  minutest  details.  In  order  to  show  that  Hamlet's 
inaction  is  due  to  the  utter  failure  and  collapse  of  his 
plan  to  compromise  the  king  during  the  performance 
of  the  "  Mouse-trap,"  it  is  necessary  to  go  back  for  a 
moment  to  the  beginning  of  the  play. 

The  Elizabethans  as  a  class  were  implicit  believers 
in  the  ghost-lore  of  the  time,  and  Shakespeare,  in 
relying  upon  a  supernatural  revelation,  is  appealing 
to  one  of  the  strongest  sympathies  of  his  audience. 
To  them,  no  thought  of  weakness  was  introduced  by 
the  idea  that  a  man  of  Hamlet's  character  was  swayed 


HAMLET  229 

in  his  actions  by  the  promptings  of  a  shadowy  appari- 
tion. It  was  also  a  part  of  the  contemporary  ghost- 
lore  that  a  spirit  had  the  power  of  becoming  invisible 
to  whom  it  pleased,  to  one  or  more  of  many  as  the 
case  might  be ;  hence  there  is  no  necessity  of  providing 
an  explanation  that  assumes  a  difference  between  the 
ghost  seen  by  all  who  are  present  on  the  platform 
at  the  beginning  of  the  play  and  the  ghost  seen  later 
by  Hamlet  and  not  by  the  queen. 

There  was,  however,  another  tradition  equally  be- 
lieved at  the  time  that  introduced  an  element  of  un- 
certainty as  to  the  identity  of  the  ghost:  namely,  that 
the  devil  (for  the  Elizabethans  believed  in  a  personal 
devil)  had  the  power  of  appearing  in  the  likeness  of  a 
departed  friend  for  the  purpose  of  tempting  one  to  a 
crime  for  which  he  would  suffer  eternal  punishment. 
It  should  be  borne  in  mind  that  this  idea  is  not  intro- 
duced subsequently  by  Hamlet  as  an  excuse  for  in- 
action ;  on  the  other  hand,  it  not  only  occurs  at  once  to 
Horatio  but  also  prompts  him  to  oppose  Hamlet's  re- 
tirement with  the  ghost  to  a  different  place  alone. 
Never  till  the  "  Mouse-trap  "  is  over  does  Hamlet  lose 
hold  of  the  idea  of  the  danger  to  his  soul  if  he  re- 
venges a  crime  that  was  never  actually  committed.  It 
is  in  order  to  discover  by  the  king's  behavior  whether 
the  ghost  of  the  elder  Hamlet  has  appeared  with  a 
true  tale  upon  its  lips,  or  whether  the  devil  in  a 
pleasing  shape  has  appeared  with  a  tale  of  falsehood, 
that  Hamlet  plans  the  "  Mouse-trap." 

Note  the  plan  in  all  its  details.  Hamlet  believes 
that  no  man  who  had  committed  the  crime  attributed 
to  Claudius  could  sit  through  the  visible  reproduction 
of   that   crime   without   displaying   unusual    emotion. 


230  SHAKESPEARE 

Such  an  exhibition  on  the  part  of  the  king  will  at 
once  settle  the  question  of  the  ghost's  identity,  and 
thus  determine  Hamlet's  future  line  of  action.  Ham- 
let, however,  with  the  full  intention  of  doing  complete 
justice,  fears  that  his  own  bias  may  influence  him  to  a 
wrong  judgment,  so  he  imparts  his  plan  to  Horatio, 
who  is  also  to  note  what  happens,  and  they  are  to 
compare  notes  on  the  king's  behavior  after  the  play  is 
over.  Note  that  it  is  Hamlet's  full  intention  to  sit 
idly  by  till  the  play  is  finished  before  he  arrives  at  a 
final  conclusion. 

In  this  clever  scheme  Hamlet  has  forgotten  one  im- 
portant detail.  He  has  forgotten  to  think  what  may 
be  the  effect  of  this  scene  upon  himself.  In  the  sequel 
it  turns  out  that  Hamlet  is  far  more  deeply  moved 
than  his  uncle,  and  at  last  completely  collapses  under 
the  strain.  The  play  proceeds.  Both  Hamlet  and 
Horatio  watch  the  king  like  a  pair  of  hawks.  Ham- 
let, however,  is  the  first  to  give  evidence  that  he  is 
suffering  extreme  emotion  at  the  sight  of  what  is 
meant  to  be  a  reproduction  of  the  murder  of  his 
father.  This  seems  to  be  the  motive  of  the  exclama- 
tion "  Wormwood,  wormwood !  "  equivalent  to  "  Bitter 
as  gall,"  which  is  not  marked  as  an  aside  in  the  early 
editions.  Doubtless  the  king  is  struck  with  the  simi- 
larity of  the  love-making  of  the  actors  to  his  own 
situation,  for  he  turns  to  Hamlet  to  ask  whether  he  has 
seen  the  play,  and  whether  there  is  any  offense  in  it. 
Whatever  emotion  Claudius  may  have  shown  up  to  this 
point,  it  has  not  taken  shape  in  words.  This  anxiety 
to  know  what  is  coming  tells  Hamlet  beyond  perad- 
venture  that  he  is  on  the  road  to  the  coveted  proof.  He 
is    madly    joyous    over    this    fact    and    impetuously 


HAMLET  231 

makes  the  fatal  blunder  of  the  play.  In  his  reply  to 
the  king  he,  as  it  were,  shows  his  hand  completely. 

Hamlet.  No,  no,  they  do  but  jest,  poison  in  jest:  no 
offence  i'  the  world. 

King.       What  do  you  call  the  play  ? 

Hamlet.  The  Mouse-trap.  Marry,  how?  Tropically. 
This  play  is  the  image  of  a  murder  done  in 
Vienna:  Gonzago  is  the  duke's  name;  his  wife 
Baptista:  you  shall  see  anon.  'Tis  a  knavish 
piece  of  work:  but  what  o'  that?  your 
majesty  and  we  have  free  souls,  it  touches 
us  not:  let  the  galled  jade  wince,  our  withers 
are  unwrung. 

The  word  tropically,  which  means  figuratively,  and 
the  last  phrases,  tell  the  king  the  whole  situation.  He 
realizes  that  Hamlet  has  either  discovered  or  sus- 
pected the  secret  crime,  and  is  now  trying  to  entrap 
its  author.  A  less  accomplished  villain  than  the  man 
who  could  say  with  so  much  dignity  at  such  a  dan- 
gerous moment — 

"Let  him  go,  Gertrude:  do  not  fear  our  person: 
There's  such  divinity  doth  hedge  a  king, 
That  treason  can  but  peep  at  what  it  would, 
Acts  little  of  his  will.     Tell  me,  Laertes, 
Why  thou  art  thus  incensed.    Let  him  go,  Gertrude. 
Speak,  man " 

is  indeed  far  too  accomplished  in  self-control  not  to  be 
able  to  meet  the  coming  shock  when  he  is  so  fully 
aware  of  what  is  expected  of  him. 

Hamlet  immediately  discovers  the  mistake  that  he 
has  made  when  he  appreciates  the  fact  that  the  only 
effect  of  his  words  is  to  steady  the  king.     It  is  exas- 


232  SHAKESPEARE 

peration  at  his  own  failure  that  causes  Hamlet  to 
violate  his  original  plan  of  waiting  to  the  end  in  order 
to  compare  notes  with  Horatio.  It  is  the  exasperation 
due  to  a  coming  sense  of  failure,  because  the  players 
cannot  accomplish  it,  that  prompts  Hamlet's  attempt 
to  force  the  king  into  an  outward  display  of  unusual 
emotion,  by  himself  springing  up  and  taking  the  words 
out  of  the  actors'  mouths. 

Yet,  wherein  lies  the  failure  ?  Has  not  Hamlet  con- 
vinced himself  of  the  ghost's  integrity?  Remember 
Hamlet's  desire  for  justice.  To  kill  Claudius  in  a 
way  that  will  appeal  to  the  public  as  a  murder  with- 
out setting  the  story  in  a  true  light  is  far  from  Ham- 
let's plan.  He  desires  to  be  an  avenging  judge,  not 
an  implicated  murderer.  And  thus  he  is  bound  to 
appear  if  he  acts  upon  the  information  derived  from 
the  '"Mouse-trap." 

Hamlet  has  already  won  a  reputation  for  madness 
about  the  court.  He  has  jumped  up  in  the  midst  of  a 
play  before  the  king,  interrupted  the  players  in  an 
important  part  of  the  narrative,  talked  fiercely  to 
the  king  himself;  in  other  words,  he  has  done  much  to 
strengthen  the  belief  in  his  madness.  It  would  be 
easy  for  Claudius  to  turn  this  impression  to  his  ad- 
vantage, as  he  actually  does  shortly  afterwards.  The 
unusual  situation,  however,  is  first  mentioned  by 
others.  It  is  Ophelia  who  first  speaks.  It  is  Polonius 
who  first  suggests  that  the  play  be  given  over.  And 
the  king,  though  greatly  wrought,  is  able  to  get  away, 
almost  unnoticed,  leaving  Hamlet  in  undisputed  pos- 
session of  the  courtiers'  thoughts.  Almost  immedi- 
ately Rosencrantz  and  Guildenstern  return  to  tell 
Hamlet  that  his  mother  has  been  struck  with  his  mad 


HAMLET  233 

behavior,  struck  into  "  amazement  and  admiration." 
And  so  his  behavior  must  appear  to  every  one  who  has 
seem  him  at  the  play,  except  Horatio  and  the  king. 

Hamlet  voices  this  idea  in  his  utterance  beginning, 
"  Now  might  I  do  it  pat."  Claudius  would  be  sent  to 
heaven,  not  because  killed  upon  his  knees,  which  is 
the  usual  interpretation,  but  because  he  would  be 
canonized  in  the  popular  mind  through  having  lost  his 
life  at  the  hands  of  a  disappointed  insane  claimant  to 
the  throne.  And  this  view  of  the  situation  is  still  in 
Hamlet's  mind  at  the  end  of  the  play  when  he  begs 
Horatio  to  preserve  his  life  a  little  longer,  saying, 

"  O  good  Horatio,  what  a  wounded  name, 
Things  standing  thus  unknown,  shall  live  behind  me!" 

So  Hamlet's  "  Mouse-trap  "  has  not  turned  out  as 
he  expected  it.  He  has  made  a  mistake  that  has  vir- 
tually convinced  him  of  the  truthfulness  of  the  ghost 
and  at  the  same  time  robbed  him  of  the  power  of 
acting  effectively  as  a  result  of  the  fact.  A  fit  of 
despondency  ensues.  He  feels  that  he  has  bungled  the 
whole  matter.  He  has  once  before  regretted  that  he 
has  been  chosen  to  set  things  right ;  now  he  feels  as  if 
his  own  weakness  makes  the  attempt  utterly  useless. 
In  this  frame  of  mind  he  is  willing  to  depart  far 
from  Denmark,  even  to  England,  in  company 
with  men  whom  he  distrusts  as  "  adders  fanged," 
rather  than  to  remain  where  duty  cries  him  on  while 
his  futility  cries  impossible.  But  this  mood  is  of  short 
duration.  He  is  soon  spurred  into  his  true  self  again 
at  sight  of  the  soldiers  of  Fortinbras.  He  seizes  the 
first  opportunity,  comes  back  to  Denmark,  is  trapped 
into  a  fencing  match  ignorantly  and  against  his  will, 


234  SHAKESPEARE 

and  kills  the  king  only  when  the  evidence  of  his  own 
poisoned  cup  and  Laertes'  dying  confession  leaves  a 
record  that  tells  posterity  the  truth. 

II.  ii.  454-634.  Now,  for  a  moment,  let  us  return 
to  this  passage,  and  examine  it  jointly  with  a  con- 
sideration of  the  staging  of  the  "  Mouse-trap."  The 
difference  that  first  catches  our  attention  is  the  form 
of  the  verse.  Here  the  players  speak  in  vigorous,  stir- 
ring blank  verse.  In  the  "  Mouse-trap  "  they  utter  in 
sing-song  couplets  that  unaided  would  soon  put  the 
audience  asleep.  Why  this  difference?  In  this  scene 
Hamlet  is  thoroughly  affected  by  the  players.  To 
sympathize  with  him  the  audience  must  be  likewise 
affected.  In  other  words,  our  attention  is  upon  the 
players,  shifted  suddenly  at  the  end  of  their  speech  to 
Hamlet.  So  they  must  declaim  and  act  to  the  best  of 
their  ability. 

In  the  "  Mouse-trap  "  scene,  however,  our  attention 
is  on  Claudius.  Anything  that  diverts  our  attention 
from  Claudius  first,  later  from  Claudius  and  Hamlet, 
will  mar  the  scene. 

Now  Hamlet  and  Horatio  should  be  placed  as  far 
apart  as  possible  on  the  stage,  provided  their  positions 
enable  them  both  to  watch  the  king  to  advantage.  And 
Hamlet  should  be  so  placed  that  the  audience  is  not 
likely  to  see  him  and  Claudius  at  the  same  time  with- 
out an  effort.  For  our  attention,  as  is  that  of  Hamlet 
and  Horatio,  should  be  fixed  upon  the  king  and  upon 
him  alone. 

The  players  of  the  "  Mouse-trap  "  are  in  the  upper 
balcony.  If  the  audience  looks  up  at  them  it  will  not 
be  able  to  watch  easily  what  is  going  on  below  on  the 


HAMLET  235 

stage  proper.  So  Shakespeare  has  taken  every  pre- 
caution to  render  this  diversion  of  eye  and  attention 
unlikely. 

1.  After  the  first  entrance  of  the  players,  Hamlet 
has  outlined  in  a  general  way  what  the  "  Mouse-trap  " 
is  to  be  about.  This  serves  partly  to  allay  the  curi- 
osity of  the  audience. 

2.  At  the  moment  of  presentation  Shakespeare 
makes  use  of  a  monotonous  insipid  verse  that  would 
hardly  attract  attention  for  itself. 

3.  A  dumb-show  is  introduced  which  enables  us 
to  see  the  whole  thing  in  advance.  We  must  not  im- 
agine that  Claudius  received  any  hint  from  this  silent 
presentation.  The  dumb-show  is  merely  a  device  to 
inform  the  audience  and  to  satisfy  its  curiosity,  so 
that  attention  will  not  be  diverted  to  the  players  dur- 
ing the  critical  time  when  we  should  be  watching 
Claudius.  So  we  watch  the  king  intently  for  some 
sign  of  blenching.  Hamlet,  for  the  time  being,  should 
be  so  placed  on  the  stage  as  to  be  out  of  the  direct 
line  of  vision. 

Suddenly  the  cry  "  Wormwood,  wormwood !  "  di- 
verts our  eyes  to  a  new  part  of  the  stage.  This  is 
the  most  important  point  of  dramatic  effect  in  the 
whole  play.  We  suddenly  realize  that  we  have  been 
watching  the  wrong  man.  The  scene  is  working  more 
powerfully  upon  Hamlet  than  upon  Claudius.  The 
"  Mouse-trap  "  is  closing  upon  the  prince  rather  than 
upon  the  king.  After  the  revelation  by  the  ghost 
Hamlet  grew  hysterical  for  a  few  moments,  that  is, 
he  acted  in  a  way  that  inspired  the  phrases  "  wild 
and  whirling  words "  and  "  an  antic  disposition." 
Now  the  same  situation  is  happening  again.     Hamlet 


236  SHAKESPEARE 

feels  that  he  is  losing  command  of  himself.  And  then 
he  suddenly  goes  to  pieces,  as  outlined  above. 

The  "  Mouse-trap  "  has  disclosed  the  whole  truth  to 
Claudius.  He  is  aware  now  that  Hamlet  possesses 
the  secret  of  the  murder.  And  Claudius,  who  well 
knows  Hamlet  to  be  a  man  of  prompt  action,  knows 
also  that  he  will  strike  fearlessly.  Claudius  can  fore- 
see protection  only  in  striking  back  first.  This  he 
determines  to  do.  He  plans  the  trip  to  England  with 
secret  instructions  to  put  Hamlet  out  of  the  way. 

III.  iii.  36.  Note  that,  but  for  one  slight  and  dis- 
guised allusion,  this  is  the  first  full  open  information 
which  the  audience  receives  that  Claudius  is  guilty. 
And  the  insertion  of  this  material  here  implies  that 
the  behavior  of  Claudius  at  the  "  Mouse-trap  "  was  not 
such  as  to  attract  the  attention  of  one  who  was  not 
made  alert  by  knowing  what  to  look  for.  In  fact, 
Horatio  nowhere  expresses  himself  as  positive  of  the 
king's  guilt.  And  I  think  that  Hamlet  himself  is 
convinced  more  by  the  effect  of  Claudius'  tremendous 
effort  not  to  betray  himself  than  by  any  outward 
action  of  moment. 

III.  iv.  24.  Hamlet  kills  Polonius  under  the  im- 
pression that  it  is  the  king  who  is  behind  the  arras. 

During  the  following  conversation  Hamlet  con- 
vinces himself  that  the  queen  has  had  no  part  in  or 
knowledge  of  the  murder  of  her  husband. 

It  has  already  been  suggested  that  in  the  fit  of 
desperation  due  to  his  bungling  management  of  the 
"  Mouse-trap,"  Hamlet  simply  gives  up,  permitting 
himself  to  be  drawn  away  to  England  without  opposi- 
tion. But  moods  seldom  are  of  long  duration.  Hamlet 
soon  comes  to  himself  again.    With  startling  energy  he 


HAMLET  237 

grasps  the  first  opportunity  to  come  back  to  work  out 
his  revenge. 

In  the  structural  scheme  of  this  play  there  are 
"  two  mighty  opposites,"  Hamlet,  and  Claudius. 
Hamlet  is  the  motive  power  in  the  first  half.  It  is 
he  who  receives  the  information  from  the  ghost,  he 
meditates  revenge,  he  engages  the  players,  he  plans 
and  carries  out  the  "  Mouse-trap."  The  latter  may  be 
considered  the  turning-point  of  the  drama.  Hence- 
forth it  is  Claudius  who  furnishes  the  motive  power. 
He  meditates  revenge  also.  He  plans  the  English 
trip.  He  mollifies  Laertes.  He  plans  the  duel  and 
prepares  the  poisoned  cup. 

Act  IV.  One  should  not  fail  to  recognize  the  great 
dramatic  skill  displayed  in  the  management  of  the 
material  contained  in  this  act.  During  most  of  the 
act  Hamlet,  the  principal  actor  of  the  play,  is  absent. 
It  would  be  a  difficult  task  to  prevent  a  let-down  in  the 
interest  under  such  circumstances,  to  prevent  the  im- 
pression of  an  interruption  during  the  progress  of  the 
act.  Yet  Hamlet  must  be  away  in  order  to  bring 
about  the  climax. 

Shakespeare  has  managed  the  difficulty  by  skilfully 
relating  the  character  of  Laertes  to  that  of  Hamlet. 
Note  the  similarity  of  situation.  Laertes  appears. 
His  father  has  been  murdered.  He  does  not  know  all 
the  details,  but  he  is  bent  on  revenge.  And  so  we 
may  say  that  in  many  respects  his  situation  is  like 
Hamlet's.  At  any  rate  there  is  enough  to  suggest 
Hamlet  and  his  story  even  while  we  are  listening  to 
the  story  of  Laertes.  And  this  helps  us  to  keep  Ham- 
let in  mind  while  he  is  really  absent. 

Furthermore,  the  character  of  Laertes  is  in  many 


238  SHAKESPEARE 

respects  the  exact  opposite  to  Hamlet's.  Laertes 
goes  headlong  without  sufficiently  making  sure  of  his 
ground.  He  will  act  first  and  consider  later,  just  the 
opposite  of  Hamlet's  mode  of  procedure.  Laertes  is 
prompt  to  act,  to  take  whatever  turns  up  and  use  it  to 
his  advantage  without  stopping  to  think  of  the  conse- 
quences. But  in  Claudius  he  has  found  a  shrewder 
man  than  himself,  one  who  is  able  to  pull  the  wool 
over  his  eyes.  Instead  of  similarity  Shakespeare  is 
here  making  use  of  contrast.  Laertes  is  in  more  ways 
than  one  contrasted  with  Hamlet.  The  more  we 
analyze  the  characters  of  the  two  men  the  more  firmly 
convinced  we  feel  that  if  Hamlet  had  had  Laertes' 
characteristics  combined  with  his  own  he  would  have 
made  a  better  success;  or,  had  Laertes  the  character- 
istics of  Hamlet  combined  with  his  own  he  would  have 
succeeded.  In  other  words,  as  we  contemplate  Laertes 
and  his  career  we  are  constantly  thinking  of  how  it 
would  be  if  Hamlet  had  gone  about  it  in  this  way,  or 
how  Hamlet  would  have  acted  under  such  circum- 
stances, or  how  different  this  is  from  the  way  in 
which  Hamlet  acted,  etc.,  etc.  In  other  words,  Ham- 
let is  kept  vividly  in  our  minds  all  through  the  act, 
notwithstanding  the  fact  that  he  is  not  present  during 
the  greater  part  of  it. 

The  usual  reader  and  critic  of  Hamlet  fails  to  at- 
tach the  proper  significance  to  the  character  of  the 
king.  To  be  sure,  he  is  not  made  so  prominent  as 
Hamlet.  On  the  other  hand,  he  is  not  such  an  insig- 
nificant figure  as  is  implied  by  the  popular  proverb, 
"  Hamlet  with  Hamlet  left  out."  Hamlet  speaks  of 
himself  and  the  king  as  two  mighty  opposites.  The 
phrase  is  apt.     The  king  is  a  formidable  antagonist, 


HAMLET  239 

one  of  keen  intellect  and  ripe  judgment.  And  the 
more  we  study  his  behavior  the  more  thoroughly  we 
understand  how  carefully  Shakespeare  has  worked 
out  every  detail  of  his  character. 

IV.  iii.  4.  Claudius  cites  the  love  of  the  common 
people  as  a  reason  for  not  taking  an  open  course 
against  Hamlet.  Note  in  the  conduct  of  Laertes  how 
helpful  this  resource  might  have  been  to  Hamlet  had 
he  availed  himself  of  it. 

IV.  iv.  The  Fortinbras  thread  of  the  story,  though 
very  slender  and  inconspicuous,  has,  however,  a  very 
important  mission  to  fulfil.  In  the  opening  scenes 
of  the  play  it  helps  to  give  an  opportunity  for  the 
insertion  of  some  of  the  correlative  material  of 
the  introduction.  Here  its  value  is  a  little  greater. 
Hamlet  is  on  his  way  to  England  while  still  under 
the  sway  of  the  fit  of  despondency  that  followed  the 
failure  of  the  "  Mouse-trap."  Here,  however,  he  sees 
a  group  of  common  people  willing  to  fight  to  the  last 
moment,  lay  down  their  lives  if  need  be,  fighting  for 
a  mere  point  of  honor  rather  than  for  a  mere  plot 
of  ground  that  has  no  intrinsic  value.  Hamlet  falls 
to  self-comparison.  As  a  result  of  this  he  is  spurred 
back  to  his  earlier  mood  and  swiftly  emerges  from 
the  despondency  that  has  lately  overtaken  him. 

And,  again,  in  the  last  act,  Fortinbras  and  his  army 
appear.  Their  value  at  the  end  is  merely  mechanical. 
There  are  several  dead  bodies  on  the  stage.  There 
was  no  drop  curtain  in  those  days,  so  far  as  we  know, 
by  which  this  closing  scene  could  be  immediately 
screened  from  the  audience.  Shakespeare  cleverly 
disposes  of  the  dead  bodies  by  introducing  Fortinbras 
and  his  army.     His  soldiers  convert  their  shields  into 


240  SHAKESPEARE 

stretchers,  thrust  their  spears  through  the  rings  in 
the  sides,  and  walk  off  with  the  corpses  to  the  stately 
strains  of  a  funeral  march.  Critics  have  been  known 
to  object  to  these  last  lines  of  Hamlet  on  the  score 
that  the  play  is  already  finished,  and  that  they  there- 
fore constitute  an  anti-climax.  To  be  sure,  the  play 
is  actually  finished.  In  a  modern  presentation  the 
curtain  could  very  easily  be  dropped  and  the  closing 
passage  effectively  omitted.  But,  to  the  Elizabethans, 
this  clever  device  for  overcoming  one  of  the  stage  dif- 
ficulties at  the  end  must  have  appealed  as  an  element 
of  merit. 

IV.  v.  121,  etc.  Note  the  calm,  dignified  behavior 
of  the  king.  There  is  not  an  atom  of  fear  in  his 
make-up.  He  is  thoroughly  self-possessed.  This  is 
another  instance  of  his  firm  behavior  very  like  that 
which  followed  the  presentation  of  the  "  Mouse-trap  " 
where  he  showed  such  marvelous  self-control.  The 
king  displays  his  skill  in  managing  Laertes  in  the 
conversation  that  follows. 

IV.  vi.  12.  From  the  letter  received  by  Horatio 
we  learn  what  has  happened  to  Hamlet  after  his  meet- 
ing with  the  army  of  Fortinbras.  How  much  more 
smoothly  the  story  proceeds  with  this  information 
conveyed  in  this  way  than  would  have  been  the  case 
had  a  scene  been  written  in  which  the  events  regard- 
ing the  pirate  attack  had  been  actually  dramatized ! 
Furthermore,  it  would  have  interrupted  the  general 
effect  of  Laertes  as  a  contrast  to  Hamlet,  as  sug- 
gested above.  Note  that  this  letter  shows  that  Ham- 
let was  quick  to  act  when  he  was  convinced  that  action 
was  the  proper  thing.  If  one  were  to  make  out  a  list 
of  all  the  places  in  the  play  where  Hamlet  evinces 


HAMLET  241 

the  power  of  sudden  action  there  would  be  little  like- 
lihood of  believing  even  for  a  moment  that  the  key 
to  his  character  is  inaction  and  procrastination. 

IV.  vii.  The  fact  that  in  this  scene  Laertes  is  hand 
and  glove  with  Claudius  is  a  vivid  testimonial  of  the 
latter's  cleverness  in  dealing  with  the  hot-headed 
young  man. 

IV.  vii.  65.  Claudius  has  already  murdered  his 
brother  in  a  secret  manner  so  skilfully  planned  that 
it  was  suspected  by  no  one  till  revealed  to  Hamlet  by 
supernatural  means.  In  the  suggestion  here  he  is 
merely  falling  back  upon  the  weapon  with  which  he 
is  most  familiar. 

IV.  vii.  143.  The  Italians  were  very  skilful  in  ad- 
ministering poison,  and  invented  many  ingenious  ways 
for  its  conveyance.  In  fact,  secret  poisoning  was 
called,  in  England,  the  Italian  crime.  And  English- 
men abhorred  it  as  the  worst.  To  murder  a  man  in 
cold  blood  with  a  sword  was  to  them  a  less  heinous 
crime  than  to  murder  a  man  by  poison.  Hence  there 
is  point  in  portraying  Laertes  as  a  man  who  not  only 
would  resort  to  such  means  but  who  would  also  actu- 
ally carry  the  means  with  him  habitually  against  a 
chance  opportunity  to  use  it.  At  this  point,  or,  rather, 
before  this  point,  there  would  be  a  little  danger  of  too 
great  sympathy  on  the  part  of  the  audience  for 
Laertes,  whose  father  has  been  murdered  and  whose 
sister  has  gone  mad.  But  this  attributing  to  him  of 
a  facility  in  the  practice  of  the  Italian  crime  robs 
him  immediately  of  all  such  sympathy  at  the  very 
moment  when  our  feelings  should  surge  back  in  favor 
of  Hamlet. 

V.  i.    More  than  once   I   have  called  attention  to 


242  SHAKESPEARE 

the  fact  that  the  Elizabethans  often  interjected  into 
their  plays  passages  that  referred  to  contemporary 
conditions,  even  though  the  play  had  a  foreign  and 
ancient  setting.  Part  of  the  dialogue  of  this  scene 
between  the  grave-diggers  has  reference  to  a  contem- 
porary lawsuit  that  was  quite  familiar  to  the  Eliza- 
bethan audience.  Not  all  the  references  are  now 
understood,  but  it  is  quite  generally  admitted  that  this 
is  a  comic  scene  much  more  palatable  to  a  contem- 
porary audience  than  to  one  of  to-day. 

V.  i.  280.  Notwithstanding  what  was  said  above 
relative  to  Hamlet's  two  meetings  with  Ophelia,  we 
must  imagine  that  his  affection  was  too  deep-rooted 
to  be  entirely  canceled.  Hamlet  is  here  upset  by  the 
hollowness  of  Laertes'  shallow  sentiments.  Remorse, 
too,  for  Ophelia's  death  may  have  been  born  on  the 
instant,  for  the  rites  and  ceremonies  indicated  that 
this  was  the  funeral  of  a  suicide  even  before  anything 
was  said.  The  situation  so  works  upon  Hamlet  that 
for  the  third  time  in  the  play  he  suffers  a  momentary 
loss  of  self-control.  It  is  while  in  this  state  of  mind 
that  he  leaps  into  the  grave  to  grapple  with  Laertes. 

V.  ii.  The  last  scene  is  a  mere  carrying  to  a 
conclusion  of  the  narrative  of  the  end.  Hamlet  has 
fully  recovered  himself.  He  fights  an  honorable 
match  and  is  as  innocent  of  Laertes'  death  as  of  the 
fact  that  Laertes  is  plotting  foully  against  his  life. 
But  when  the  truth  is  told  him  he  instantly  realizes 
that  the  king  is  back  of  it  all.  This  is  the  situation 
Hamlet  has  been  working  towards  since  the  beginning 
of  the  play.  He  has  cornered  the  king  at  last  hot- 
handed  in  crime.  The  poisoned  sword  and  the  cup 
of  deadly  drink  are  damning  evidence.     Hamlet  does 


HAMLET  243 

not  hesitate  to  act  a  moment.  And  his  last  words 
to  Horatio  imply  that  one  need  but  tell  his  story  now 
with  the  circumstances  at  hand  to  convince  posterity 
that  his  act  was  an  act  of  judgment,  not  a  murder. 
And  this  will  put  Claudius  in  the  light  he  deserves. 

(The  entrance  of  Fortinbras  at  the  end  of  the  play 
has  been  commented  on  above.) 

IV.    Stage  Setting 

Until  comparatively  recent  times  the  idea  prevailed 
that  the  Elizabethan  plays  were  acted  upon  a  bare 
and  structureless  stage  practically  devoid  of  all  scenic 
effect  save  that  produced  by  the  use  of  simple  prop- 
erties. By  degrees  this  idea  has  vanished  before  a 
mass  of  inference  so  plausible  as  to  be  considered  to 
all  intents  and  purposes  equivalent  to  proof.  There  is 
danger,  however,  of  going  too  far  in  the  opposite 
direction,  of  permitting  the  fancy  to  build  a  picture 
which  is  heightened  beyond  the  limits  due  to  justifia- 
ble inference.  Let  us  see  whether  we  can  review 
within  the  extremes  the  Elizabethan  presentation  of 
Hamlet. 

Consider  first  the  following  assignment  of  the  indi- 
vidual scenes. 

I.  i.  The  platform  without  the  castle. 

I.  ii.  A  room  of  state. 

I.  iii.  A  room  in  Polonius'  house. 

I.  iv.  The  platform  without  the  castle. 

I.  v.  Another  part  of  same. 

II.  i.  Room  in  Polonius'  house. 

II.  ii.  Room  in  the  castle. 

III.  i.  Room  in  the  castle. 

III.  ii.  Hall  in  the  castle. 

III.  iii.  Room  in  the  castle. 


244  SHAKESPEARE 

III.  iv.    Queen's  closet. 

IV.  i.      Room  in  castle. 
IV.  ii.    Room  in  castle. 

IV.  iii.  Another  room  in  castle. 

IV.  iv.  A  plain  in  Denmark. 

IV.    v.  Room  in  castle. 

IV.  vi.  Room  in  castle. 

IV.  vii.  Another  room  in  castle. 

V.  i.  A  churchyard. 

V.  ii.  A  hall  in  the  castle. 

What  at  first  sight  seems  to  be  a  succession  of 
twenty  scenes  is  in  reality  but  a  few.  The  platform 
(1)  is  used  three  times.  There  is  a  plain  in  Den- 
mark (2).  And  there  is  a  churchyard  scene  (3). 
All  the  others,  fifteen  in  number,  are  rooms,  now  the 
queen's  closet,  now  a  hall  of  state,  in  Polonius'  house 
or  in  the  castle.  For  all  that,  every  one  is  an  in- 
terior (4),  varied,  perhaps,  from  time  to  time,  but 
essentially  the  same.  In  other  words,  from  the  stand- 
point of  staging  the  twenty  scenes  reduce  to  four. 

There  is  another  point  to  bear  in  mind  before  we 
consider  the  staging  in  detail.  The  platform  may 
have  been  provided  in  the  form  of  two  painted  cloths, 
one  let  down  at  the  front  of  the  inner  stage,  another 
continuing  the  picture  at  the  rear  of  the  upper  gallery. 
A  similar  painted  cloth  let  down  at  the  front  of  the 
inner  stage  would  provide  the  plain  in  Denmark. 
Doubtless  the  theaters  then,  as  to-day,  possessed  the 
materials  for  the  general  setting  of  an  interior  which 
with  little  difficulty  could  be  adjusted  to  the  need  of 
the  moment  by  a  variation  in  the  movable  properties. 
Thus  three  painted  cloths  on  rollers  and  one  stock 
interior  is  all  that  is  necessary  in  addition  to  movable 
properties  to  make  a  very  good  setting  for  Hamlet. 


HAMLET  245 

The  production  of  the  graveyard  scene  will  be  alluded 
to  later. 

If  the  inference  suggested  by  the  last  act  of  The 
Merchant  of  Venice  be  correct,  we  may  imagine  that 
the  canvas  covering  of  the  theater,  or  the  side  cur- 
tains, were  drawn  at  the  time  the  audience  assembled. 
The  semi-darkness  would  have  a  quieting  effect,  and 
would  serve  to  put  the  spectators  on  the  proper  road 
to  a  mood  suitable  for  the  opening  of  the  play.  The 
curtains  between  the  pillars  supporting  the  heavens 
would  be  also  closed.  At  the  beginning  of  the  play 
they  were  drawn,  disclosing  Francisco  at  his  post  on 
guard.  Beyond  him,  on  the  painted  cloth,  is  the 
masonry  of  the  castle  platform,  and  above,  at  the  rear 
of  the  upper  gallery,  more  walls  and  parapets  appear. 

At  the  end  of  the  scene  the  means  for  producing 
darkness  are  drawn  back,  flooding  the  stage  with  light. 
Meantime  the  upper  gallery  has  been  closed  by  cur- 
tains, and  the  lower  cloth  raised.  The  scene  that 
now  presents  itself  has  been  set  up  before  the  play 
began.  It  is  a  hall  of  state.  The  stock  interior  has 
been  used,  elaborated  as  much  as  possible  for  the  oc- 
casion by  the  introduction  of  properties,  among  which 
would  be  a  throne.  Inner,  middle,  and  outer  stages 
are  all  open  for  the  accommodation  of  the  court.  At 
the  end  of  this  scene  a  painted  cloth  representing 
the  wall  of  a  simpler  room  might  be  let  down,  cutting 
off  the  view  of  the  throne  at  the  back  of  the  stage. 
By  the  simple  and  easy  manipulation  of  painted  cloths 
the  room  could  be  easily  changed  from  a  room  of  state 
to  another  room,  etc.  And  then  back  to  the  castle 
ramparts  again.  As  easily  would  a  cloth  provide  at 
the   proper  time   for  the   plain   in   Denmark.      And 


246  SHAKESPEARE 

another,  used  in  V.  i.,  would  represent  a  graveyard. 
Previous  to  this  scene,  however,  the  curtains  would  be 
drawn,  shutting  off  the  inner  and  middle  stages.  A 
few  solid  properties,  such  as  tombstones,  are  brought 
in,  the  trap  in  the  stage  floor  is  opened,  and  the  grave- 
diggers  are  ready  to  begin  their  work.  At  the  end  the 
curtains  are  drawn  again.  The  last-named  properties 
immediately  removed,  and  the  stage  restored  to  "  A 
hall  in  the  castle." 

Thus  it  will  be  seen  that  the  most  elaborate  setting 
of  the  play  can  be  put  in  place  before  the  play  begins 
and  remain  practically  intact  during  the  whole  per- 
formance. 

V.    Hamlet's  Madness 

This  question  has  never  had  for  me  the  interest 
or  importance  that  has  so  often  been  attached  to  it. 
However,  for  form's  sake  it  cannot  be  altogether 
neglected.  Some  critics  have  held  that  Hamlet  is 
mad,  or  loses  his  mind  during  the  play.  Others  be- 
lieve that  he  is  perfectly  sane,  but  pretends  to  be 
mad.  While  others  believe  that  he  is  neither  mad  nor 
pretending  to  be  mad. 

In  the  notes  on  the  text  I  have  tried  to  make  it 
appear  that  the  "  antic  disposition "  passage  points 
backward  to  the  recent  behavior  of  Hamlet  and  does 
not  imply  the  use  of  an  intentional  cloak  of  madness 
in  the  future.  And  we  may  search  in  vain  throughout 
the  remainder  of  the  play  to  find  an  illustration  of 
his  assumption  of  madness  to  further  his  own  ends. 
There  is,  however,  one  trivial  passage  where  he  is 
trifling  with  Polonius  by  making  unintelligible  re- 
marks.     The    remarks,    however,    are    unintelligible 


HAMLET  247 

only  to  Polonius.  The  amusement  of  the  passage  lies 
in  the  fact  that  Hamlet  plays  with  the  idea  of  Po- 
lonius as  to  his  madness,  the  audience  being  at  the 
same  time  perfectly  aware  of  the  contrary.  It  is  also 
interesting  to  note  that  in  the  earlier  version  of  Ham- 
let's story  which  Shakespeare  is  supposed  to  have  had 
before  him,  the  assumption  of  madness  on  the  part 
of  Hamlet  is  made  very  plain.  All  this  has  been  cut 
out  of  the  present  play.  This  is  in  itself  evidence 
to  me  that  Shakespeare  did  not  wish  it  to  remain. 

It  also  seems  equally  plain  to  me  that  there  is  not 
the  least  evidence  of  actual  madness  in  the  play.  And 
I  shall  merely  suggest  the  principal  points  without 
discussing  the  matter  at  length. 

At  no  place  in  the  play  does  Hamlet  act  like  a 
madman.  After  the  revelation  by  the  ghost,  after 
the  "  Mouse-trap,"  and  at  Ophelia's  grave  Hamlet  mo- 
mentarily loses  his  self-control  and  acts  without  rea- 
son. But  he  soon  recovers  himself  and  realizes 
perfectly  what  he  has  done.  His  ultra  excitement  bor- 
ders on  hysterics,  but  no  more  deserves  the  term  of 
madness  than  the  weird  behavior  so  often  attributed 
to  persons  in  the  excitement  of  a  fire  when  feather 
beds  are  carried  downstairs  and  mirrors  thrown  out 
the  window.  Hamlet  is  guilty  of  no  other  kind  of 
irrational  action. 

And  what  do  the  people  in  the  play  itself  think  of 
the  matter?  The  idea  that  Hamlet  is  mad  never 
seems  to  have  occurred  to  Horatio,  notwithstanding 
the  fact  that  he  feared  the  ghost,  if  it  should  turn  out 
an  evil  spirit,  might  rob  Hamlet  of  his  reason.  In 
other  words,  Horatio,  who  feared  that  such  a  thing 
might  be,  never  seems  to  think  that  it  actually  hap- 


248  SHAKESPEARE 

pened.  Rosencrantz  and  Guildenstern  approach  Ham- 
let, having  been  informed  of  and  perhaps  believing 
in  his  madness.  They  seem  to  leave  him  convinced 
of  the  contrary.  Claudius,  for  the  sole  purpose  of 
confirming  Polonius'  belief  in  the  madness  of  Hamlet, 
plays  the  part  of  an  eavesdropper  in  order  to  get  the 
proof.  But  the  only  effect  of  the  scene  is  to  convince 
the  king  that  Hamlet  is  not  mad.  Ophelia  and  the 
queen  both  believe  him  to  be  mad;  but,  as  pointed  out 
above,  they  base  their  belief  upon  a  misapprehension 
of  the  very  circumstance  that  gives  rise  to  this  belief. 

Polonius,  who  misunderstands  Hamlet's  treatment 
of  Ophelia,  jumps  to  the  conclusion  that  he  must  be 
mad.  Yet  Polonius  is  never  more  humorously  foolish 
himself  than  when  he  is  urging  Hamlet's  madness. 
And  even  he  is  constrained  to  see  a  little  method  in  it. 

And,  as  evidence  from  the  opposite  point  of  view, 
Hamlet  throughout  the  play  is  extremely  shrewd, 
giving  evidence  again  and  again  of  a  mind  under  con- 
trol that  would  be  the  envy  of  many  a  person  who  has 
escaped  the  charge  altogether. 

VI.    The  Character  of  Hamlet 

So  much  has  been  said  above  relative  to  the  char- 
acter of  Hamlet  that  there  is  need  of  no  more  than 
a  few  notes  binding  the  suggestions  together.  It  is 
often  suggested  that  Hamlet  is  the  man  of  inaction 
put  into  a  place  or  situation  that  demands  a  man  of 
action;  or  that  he  is  a  deliberative  philosopher  losing 
his  opportunity  in  the  procrastination  of  his  delibera- 
tion. I  cannot  bring  myself  fully  to  accept  either  of 
these  suggestions. 

In  the  first  place,  Hamlet  is  to  me,  though  a  scholar, 


HAMLET  249 

not  a  philosopher.  He  breaks  down  hysterically  three 
times.  He  argues  about  his  own  cowardice  in  a  way 
that  is  evidently  false.  He  is  easily  put  up  and 
down  in  spirits.  These  are  not  characteristics  of  a 
philosopher. 

Furthermore,  he  is  a  man  of  prompt  action  who 
acts  quickly  as  a  result  of  his  convictions.  He  ac- 
cepts at  once  the  invitation  to  meet  the  ghost.  And  he 
undertakes  without  a  moment's  hesitation  the  danger- 
ous task  of  following  it  alone.  He  instantly  seizes  the 
opportunity  to  use  the  players  in  the  "  Mouse-trap." 
He  sees  through,  or  thinks  he  does,  the  treatment  of 
Ophelia,  and  acts  accordingly,  though  in  violation  of 
his  inmost  feelings.  There  is  not  a  moment's  hesita- 
tion in  the  murder  of  Polonius,  whom,  however,  Ham- 
let mistakes  for  the  king.  Hamlet  is  quick-acting  in 
the  pirate  attack.  He  is  prompt  to  return  to  Den- 
mark. He  leaps  into  Ophelia's  grave.  He  accepts  the 
challenge  of  Laertes  without  delay.  And  he  kills  the 
king  at  last  with  a  celerity  unequaled  elsewhere  in 
the  play. 

What,  then,  is  the  key  to  Hamlet's  behavior?  I 
think  that  it  is  to  be  found  in  an  adherence  to  the 
principles  of  absolute  justice.  He  acts  only  upon  a 
firm  conviction  that  what  he  is  going  to  do  is  right. 
He  delays  the  main  act  during  the  first  half  of  the 
play  because  he,  like  Horatio,  is  not  fully  convinced 
that  his  uncle  is  the  murderer  of  his  father.  He  fails 
to  kill  the  king  after  the  "  Mouse-trap  "  because  he  is 
as  fully  convinced  that  to  do  it  then  will  produce  a 
wrong  impression.  And  he  kills  Claudius  at  last 
because  the  time  has  come  when  he  can  do  it  with 
full  justice  to  himself  and  in  the  eyes  of  all  men. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
KING  LEAR 

In  the  preface  to  this  volume  I  have  called  atten- 
tion to  the  fact  that  it  is  not  only  impossible  but 
also  inadvisable  to  attempt  to  devise  a  uniform  scheme 
according  to  which  all  of  Shakespeare's  plays  can  be 
studied.  Lear  does  not  lend  itself  conveniently  to  the 
method  made  use  of,  with  wide  variations,  however, 
in  other  parts  of  the  present  volume.  In  taking  up 
the  study  of  Lear  in  the  manner  here  set  forth,  I 
have  in  mind  the  task  of  offering  to  the  student  or 
the  teacher  a  plan  that  may  with  advantage  be  fol- 
lowed elsewhere.  It  implies,  however,  a  slightly  dif- 
ferent method  of  preliminary  study.  In  the  discussion 
of  many  of  the  other  plays  I  have  assumed  a  single 
preliminary  reading  of  the  play.  Then  the  drama  is 
gone  through  with  again,  with  emphasis  laid  upon 
details  that  come  up  for  discussion  in  the  order  in 
which  they  appear  in  the  text.  After  a  familiarity 
with  the  play  has  been  gained  in  this  way,  general 
questions  have  been  discussed  that  require  for  their 
comprehension  a  pretty  familiar  knowledge  of  the 
whole  composition.  Such  a  knowledge  should  in  the 
present  case  be  obtained  before  the  beginning  of 
the  study  of  the  play  according  to  this  plan. 

It  may  not  be  amiss  as  a  suggestion  either  to 
students  or  to  teachers,  to  hint  a  little  as  to  prelimi- 
250 


KING  LEAR  251 

nary  work  necessary  to  the  successful  study  of  the  play 
along  the  lines  here  set  down.  Let  the  whole  play 
be  assigned  as  reading  for  the  first  recitation.  In 
the  class-room  the  play  is  talked  over  in  a  miscel- 
laneous sort  of  way.  Perhaps  it  would  be  well  to 
ask  a  student  to  begin  by  telling  the  story  of  the  first 
scene.  In  my  own  experience  I  have  always  found 
that,  once  a  start  is  made,  there  is  no  difficulty  in 
keeping  the  class  asking  and  answering  questions. 
Nor  do  I  think  it  makes  much  difference,  for  a  time 
at  least,  what  they  ask  about,  so  long  as  the  questions 
are  such  as  to  show  that  the  students  have  actually 
read  the  lines  and  have  honestly  been  puzzled  for  an 
answer. 

A  general  reading  of  the  play  may  then  be  as- 
signed a  second  time  for  the  next  recitation.  And 
I  should  require  each  student  to  hand  in  a  list  of 
selected  questions  that  involve  difficult  or  unanswered 
points  in  the  play.  The  questioning  during  this  recita- 
tion may  well  be  guided  more  definitely  by  the  in- 
structor than  in  the  first  recitation.  At  any  rate,  he 
can  easily  manage  to  fill  up  any  gaps  left  in  the  first 
preliminary  survey.  Thenceforth,  I  should  assign  two 
or  three  acts  to  be  read  carefully  at  each  recitation 
till  the  consideration  of  the  play  is  ended.  The  whole 
purpose  that  is  to  be  constantly  borne  in  mind  during 
the  preliminary  study  is  the  familiarizing  the  student 
with  the  contents  of  the  play  as  a  whole. 

As  for  the  questions  handed  in  by  the  students,  I 
always  study  them  with  care  at  home.  In  fact,  the 
questions  suggested  in  the  following  chapter  are  the 
result  of  such  lists  presented  in  my  classes  in  suc- 
cessive   years.      Every    one    of    them    is    a    question 


252  SHAKESPEARE 

actually  asked  by  a  student,  most  of  them  many 
times. 

1.  What  has  happened  before  the  beginning  of  the 
play? — In  the  discussion  of  this  question  it  would  be 
well  to  point  out  the  fact  that  the  preliminary  portion 
of  this  play  has  not  been  worked  out  by  the  author 
with  anything  like  the  care  that  the  preliminary  por- 
tion of,  for  instance,  Macbeth,  has  been  worked  out. 
For  instance,  Lear  is  eccentric  to  the  point  of  mad- 
ness. Do  we  know  how  long  this  has  been  true  of 
him  ?  How  many  people  in  the  play  know  of  it  ?  The 
sisters  seem  to  be  the  only  persons  who  are  familiar 
with  the  fact  and  take  advantage  of  it.  How  came 
it  that  no  one  else  shared  their  attitude  ? 

What  is  the  situation  of  Edmund?  He  has  been 
"  out"'  nine  years.  Yet  he  seems  to  be  perfectly 
familiar  with  every  detail  of  British  court  life.  Was 
he  kept  well-informed  during  his  absence?  If  so,  by 
whom?  Do  his  father,  and  others,  behave  themselves 
towards  Edmund  as  they  should,  considering  his  origin 
and  his  absence  from  the  country?  Is  he  made  suf- 
ficiently attractive  to  account  for  his  affair  with  the 
princess  later  in  the  play? 

In  the  opening  lines  Kent  says  that  he  always 
thought  the  king  to  be  partial  to  Albany.  How, 
then,  account  for  his  equal  division  of  the  kingdom? 
Does  the  remainder  of  the  play  bear  out  Kent's 
suggestion?  How  about  the  impression  that  seems 
natural,  to  wit,  that  Lear  is  really  partial  to  Cor- 
delia ? 

Gloucester  has  often  in  the  past  blushed  to  ac- 
knowledge the  origin  of  Edmund,  yet  in  this  play  he 
seems  to  give  credence  to  what  he  says  even  against 


KING  LEAR  253 

Edgar.  And  in  this  respect  there  seems  to  be  not  the 
least  hesitation  on  the  part  of  Gloucester. 

Towards  the  end  of  the  first  scene  Cordelia  ex- 
presses her  perfect  familiarity  with  the  wolfish  char- 
acter of  her  sisters.  Yet  Kent,  who  seems  to  under- 
stand Cordelia  and  Lear  so  well,  gives  no  evidence 
of  knowing  the  truth  about  the  other  two  sisters. 
Have  they  ever  before  given  evidence  of  such  char- 
acteristics? If  not,  is  it  possible  for  them  to  have 
become  such  accomplished  villains  on  the  spur  of  the 
moment?  If  they  were  always  thus,  would  it  be  pos- 
sible for  them  to  keep  the  knowledge  of  their  char- 
acters away  from  every  one  but  their  sister  Cordelia? 
And  if  she  actually  knew  what  was  in  store  for  her 
father  as  a  result  of  putting  himself  completely  under 
their  dominion,  would  she,  if  she  really  loved  her 
father,  have  taken  a  course  that  in  the  end  was  bound 
to  remove  herself,  his  only  protector,  entirely  from 
the  scene  of  action? 

The  discussion  of  these  and  similar  questions  will 
reveal  the  fact  that  Shakespeare  has  not  worked  over 
the  material  concerned  in  the  preliminary  details  of 
the  play  with  his  customary  care. 

2.  Tell  the  Lear  Story. — Also  tell  the  Gloucester 
story.  Try  to  pick  out  the  essential  points  of  each. 
Show  how  one  is  the  reflection  of  the  other.  The 
latter  serves  to  break  up  the  strain  of  continuous  at- 
tention to  such  a  terrible  tale,  at  the  same  time  pre- 
venting too  great  an  interruption,  too  great  an  im- 
pression of  the  lack  of  continuity. 

Note  that  the  sub-plot  is  very  like  the  main  plot 
in  many  respects,  and  sufficiently  different  in  others 
to  enable  the  author  to  make  use  of  the  effect  of 


254  SHAKESPEARE 

constrast.  (Refer  to  the  discussion  of  the  fourth  act 
of  Hamlet  for  a  note  on  the  dramatic  effect  of 
contrast.)  Note  the  suspicious  quality  of  both  Lear 
and  Gloucester.  Compare  in  this  respect  with  the 
unsuspicious  character  of  Othello.  Note  also  that 
there  is  a  deliberate  attempt  to  maltreat  Lear  by  his 
daughters  for  selfish  motives.  The  same  attempt  is 
made  against  Gloucester  by  his  son.  Lear  is  partly 
culpable  because  he  is  so  unjustly  headstrong. 
Gloucester  is  partly  culpable  because  of  his  unsus- 
piciousness,  which  leads  him  to  give  credence  to  what 
Edmund  says  against  Edgar.  Lear's  suffering  is  men- 
tal and  more  terrible  than  Gloucester's,  which  is 
mainly  physical. 

3.  Work  out  the  idea  of  nemesis. — 1.  Upon  Lear 
for  his  treatment  of  Cordelia.  This  is  in  a  measure 
justified,  for  he  has  treated  her  with  great  injustice. 
The  means  of  punishing  him  for  this  treatment  of  his 
daughter  is  the  combined  attack  upon  his  liberties  by 
Goneril  and  Regan.  They,  however,  visit  him  with 
so  much  more  punishment  than  he  deserves  that  we 
find:  2.  Nemesis  deserved  by  Goneril  and  Regan. 
3.  Punishment  also  falls  upon  Gloucester  because  of 
his  treatment  of  Edgar.  His  son  Edmund  is  the 
means  of  effecting  this.  But  he  also  wreaks  far 
greater  punishment  than  Gloucester  deserves,  which 
in  turn  lays  him  open  to  punishment.  4.  There- 
fore nemesis   falls  upon  Edmund. 

4.  Discuss  the  character  of  Lear. — The  following 
suggestions   may   prove   helpful: 

Regarding  his  mental  condition  at  the  beginning 
of  the  play:  In  the  opening  situation  we  find  Lear's 
insistence  upon  trifles  emphasized.     The  speeches  re- 


KING  LEAR  255 

quired  by  his  daughters  are  mere  forms.  He  had 
already  definitely  made  the  division  of  the  kingdom. 
Kent  and  Gloucester  both  seem  to  know  this  quality 
of  the  king.  We  find,  also,  that  he  is  getting  old  and 
tired  of  ruling.  Is  there  also  evidence  that  he  is  get- 
ting incapable  of  ruling?  He  wants  the  pleasure  of 
the  title  without  the  responsibility.  He  really  loves 
all  three  of  his  daughters  in  his  own  tempestuous  way. 
He  is  shrewd  enough  to  divide  his  kingdom  equally 
lest  one  gobble  up  another's  share.  Yet  he  is  slowly 
losing  his  mind  and  knows  it,  therefore  he  would  put 
his  kingdom  into  better  hands. 

As  proof  of  the  latter  assertion  one  might  say: — 

Lear  is  absurdly  fond  of  childish  display,  and  mag- 
nifies trifles,  as  in  the  requiring  of  his  daugh- 
ters' praise,  and  the  following  treatment  of  Cor- 
delia. 

His  inability  to  fully  comprehend  the  situation 
when  Kent  puts  it  to  him. 

He  does  not  realize  that  he  has  given  away  all  his 
power,  but  immediately  exercises  the  royal  prerogative 
which  he  has  discarded,  in  the  banishment  of  Kent, 
and  later  threatens  to  take  back  what  he  has  given 
away.  (It  should  not  be  forgotten  that  the  Eliza- 
bethan audience  was  familiar  with  a  model  of  the  cor- 
rect kind  of  abdication  in  the  action  of  Charles  the 
Fifth  of  Spain.) 

The  surprise  of  France  that  Lear  has  gone  to  such 
an  extreme  over  so  small  a  matter. 

The  attitude  of  Goneril  and  Regan.  "  How  full 
of  changes  his  life  is."  "  'Tis  the  infirmity  of  his 
age."  "  The  unruly  waywardness  that  infirm  and 
choleric  years  bring  with  them."    Gloucester  speaks  of 


256  SHAKESPEARE 

Lear's  dotage,  and  treats  him  generally  as  if  he  were 
in  his  second  childhood. 

Lear  seems  to  realize  the  fact  himself.  "  Oh,  let 
me  not  be  mad,  not  mad,"  he  exclaims. 

His  erratic  behavior  lends  countenance  to  the 
charge. 

What  is  the  character  of  Lear  in  act  II.?  In  act  I. 
he  has  cursed  Goneril  and  her  issue,  and  threatens  to 
assume  again  the  shape  that  she  thinks  he  has  cast  off 
forever.  Then  he  arrives,  bent  on  seeing  Regan.  He 
abuses  Gloucester  because  he  brings  the  message  that 
the  duke  and  the  duchess  cannot  see  him.  In  the 
next  breath,  however,  Lear  tries  to  apologize  for 
them,  but  he  is  hardly  able  to  excuse  their  con- 
duct. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  this  act  has  brought  the  king 
to  the  verge  of  distraction.  He  makes  an  effort  to  con- 
trol himself,  but  breaks  down  at  the  end  and  leaves 
wildly  in  a  rage.  He  has  sworn  that  he  will  never  go 
back  to  Goneril,  yet  he  does  soon  go  unheroically  back 
to  her  as  the  lesser  of  two  evils,  because  Regan  has 
cut  his  following  down  to  twenty-five  retainers.  It  is 
pathetic  to  note  that  when  Lear  is  charged  with  do- 
tage he  does  not  deny  the  charge. 

The  student  should  ponder  carefully  the  mean- 
ing of  every  detail  of  Lear's  behavior  in  this  act.  Does 
he  act  like  a  hero,  or  like  a  weakling,  or  like  a  strong 
man  going  to  pieces? 

One  may  say  that  the  development  of  Lear's  char- 
acter ends  with  the  heath  scene.  For  a  while  he  is 
mad.  Then  he  merely  recovers  his  mind  sufficiently 
at  the  end  to  enable  him  to  die  in  peace. 


KING  LEAR  257 

5.  Study  the  characters  of  Goneril  and  Regan. — 
Are  they  real  people  or  merely  types  of  wickedness? 
Are  the  sisters  essentially  different?  that  is,  are  they 
really  individuals?  The  student  may  help  himself  to 
answer  these  questions  by  canvassing  his  mind  and 
memory  to  see  whether  he  has  had  difficulty  in  keep- 
ing the  sisters  and  their  acts  apart.  For  instance,  is 
it  Goneril  or  Regan  who  makes  the  first  cut  in  the 
number  of  Lear's  followers?  Was  this  or  that  cruel 
remark  made  by  one  or  the  other  ? 

6.  Study  the  character  of  Cordelia; — What  does 
she  know  of  Goneril  and  Regan  at  the  start?  What 
does  she  know  of  her  father's  condition  ?  How  does  she 
behave  herself  in  act  I.  ?  What  does  Kent  think  of  her 
behavior?  What  does  France  think  of  it?  What  does 
Lear  think  of  it?  What  do  you  think  of  it?  Had 
there  been  any  real  kindness  in  her  heart  would  she 
have  taken  a  course  knowingly  that  turned  her  doting 
father  over  to  the  clutches  of  a  pair  of  wolves,  and,  at 
the  same  time,  removed  herself,  the  only  one  on  whom 
he  could  depend  for  help?  And  yet  she  virtually  ac- 
knowledges that  this  is  what  she  does.  At  the  end 
of  the  play  she  appears  as  a  saint  come  to  rescue  her 
father.  How  do  you  account  for  the  change  ?  Is  there 
any  evidence  that  Shakespeare  appreciated  the  fact 
that  Cordelia  at  the  end  is  merely  trying  to  make  an 
effort  to  deliver  her  father  from  the  terrible  situation 
into  which  he  has  been  thrust  as  a  result  of  her  own 
pig-headedness  in  the  first  act? 

These  questions  imply  a  view  of  Cordelia's  character 
that  is  not  usually  taken.  To  be  sure,  she  is  one  of  the 
minor  characters,  introduced  for  the  mere  sake  of  the 
plot,  and  not  carefully  worked  out.     Such  characters 


258  SHAKESPEARE 

should  never  be  scanned  too  carefulty.  Under  such 
circumstances  we  should  not  be  impelled  to  scrutinize 
her  character  with  the  same  seriousness  that  one  would 
analyze  the  actions  of  a  main  character.  Yet  she  is,  on 
the  other  hand,  important  enough  to  justify  one's  look- 
ing at  her  character  with  a  sufficient  degree  of  care. 

It  is  hard  to  escape  the  conclusion  that  Cordelia  is 
brutally  perverse  in  the  maintenance  of  her  pride  in 
act  I.  Nor  can  she  be  excused  on  the  score  of  ig- 
norance. She  says  plainly  that  she  understands  her 
father's  condition  and  the  likely  future  attitude  of  her 
sisters.  Rather  than  speak  a  little  harmless  flattery  to 
please  her  old  and  failing  parent  she  submits  to  ban- 
ishment, disappoints  him,  contributes  to  the  triumph 
of  her  sisters,  brings  her  husband  no  dower,  turns  her 
sisters  loose  upon  her  father,  and  puts  it  out  of  her 
own  power  to  help  him.  Nor  is  it  possible  to  recon- 
cile this  behavior  with  the  loveliness  of  her  character 
in  act  V.  Had  she  behaved  herself  in  the  beginning 
as  she  does  at  the  end  there  would  have  been  no  trag- 
edy in  the  life  of  Lear.  Cordelia  is  what  we  might 
call  a  thoroughly  plot-ridden  character. 

7.  What  of  the  character  of  Albany? — Is  he  an- 
other plot-ridden  character?  Early  in  the  play  he  is 
utterly  unable  to  assert  himself  in  the  presence  of  his 
wife.  Later  he  manifests  the  opposite  quality.  What 
has  occasioned  the  change?  What  would  have  been 
the  result  had  he  displayed  the  characteristics  at  the 
beginning  that  he  is  able  to  display  at  the  end  ?  Is  it 
fair  to  say  that,  had  he  asserted  himself  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  play,  there  would  have  been  no  tragedy, 
and  that  there  is  no  sufficient  reason  for  his  not  doing 
so? 


KING  LEAR  259 

8.  The  character  of  Kent. — Find  passages  to  show 
that  he  is  shrewd,  courageous,  foolish.  Is  he  a  help 
or  a  hindrance  to  Lear?  Kent's  character,  on  the 
whole,  seems  inconsistent,  as  is  implied  by  the  above 
questions  relative  to  his  being  both  shrewd  and  fool- 
ish. He  comprehends  the  foibles  of  the  king  and  acts 
upon  them.  Yet  he  is  himself  just  as  erratic  as  the 
king  he  criticises  so  adversely.  He  brings  trouble  upon 
Lear  by  his  own  actions  when  all  indications  point  to 
the  fact  that  he  is  a  shrewd  enough  man  to  know 
better. 

9-  The  character  of  Gloucester  introduces  some 
difficulties.  How  does  he  really  feel  towards  Edmund 
and  towards  Edgar  ?  Why  does  he  place  such  implicit 
trust  in  Edmund  ?  What  becomes  of  the  plot  he  over- 
hears to  kill  the  king?  Does  he  deserve  his  punish- 
ment ? 

10.  The  character  of  Edmund. — Why  do  not  others 
know  him  better?  What  motives  prompt  his  wicked- 
ness ?  Has  he  been  a  villain  before,  or  has  he  become 
an  accomplished  villain  all  at  once,  without  training? 
Yet,  if  he  had  had  plenty  of  training  how  happens 
it  that  no  one  suspects  him  of  being  otherwise  than  he 
seems?  In  the  main,  he  is  rather  blundering  in  his 
plotting,  and  succeeds  rather  by  accident.  Compare 
in  this  respect  with  the  skilful  plots  laid  by  Iago. 

1 1 .  The  fool. — Before  one  attempts  to  make  up  his 
mind  as  to  the  character  of  the  fool  one  should  con- 
sider just  what  an  Elizabethan  fool  was  and  what 
privileges  his  station  implied.  The  fools  were  house- 
hold servants  whose  purpose  was  to  make  fun  for  their 
masters.  In  order  to  give  them  free  rein  they  were 
considered  immune  from  punishment  under  ordinary 


260  SHAKESPEARE 

circumstances,  and  at  liberty  to  speak  their  minds 
freely  without  fear  of  consequences.  Hence,  Lear's 
jhreat  to  have  the  fool  whipped  is  equivalent  to  saying 
that  the  king  has  almost  forgotten  what  is  due  to  a 
fool.  And  it  will  be  noted  throughout  that  the  fool 
makes  remarks,  without  the  least  hesitation,  that  no 
one  else  would  have  dared  to  make  in  the  presence  of 
the  tempestuous  king. 

The  question  arises  as  to  whether  this  fool  is  like 
other  fools.  He  is,  indeed,  much  like  the  other  fools 
of  Shakespeare;  but  note  that  he  only  speaks,  as  a 
rule,  to  Lear  himself,  and  his  words  are  generally  of  a 
nature  to  "  rub  in  "  the  mistakes  of  Lear. 

Do  the  moments  at  which  he  acts  produce  a  peculiar 
effect?  Why  does  he  drop  out  in  the  middle  of  the 
play  ?    Does  the  fool  stand  for  anything  in  particular  ? 

The  answer  to  the  last  question  involves  the  enigma 
of  the  fool — that  is,  if  there  be  any  enigma  of  the  fool. 
It  has  been  ingeniously  suggested  that  the  fool  rep- 
resents in  embodied  form  the  conscience  of  Lear.  If 
this  be  so,  one  wonders  at  the  fact  that  Lear's  con- 
science has  no  effect  upon  him.  When  a  person  acts 
as  if  he  were  unaffected  by  a  conscience  we  generally 
say  that  he  has  no  conscience.  Perhaps  what  is  really 
meant  is  that  the  fool  represents  what  would  have  been 
Lear's  conscience  if  he  had  had  one.  This  would, 
perhaps,  explain  the  fact  that  he  speaks  only  to  Lear 
and  that  there  is  no  more  of  him  when  Lear  has  lost 
his  mind. 

I  think,  however,  that  there  may  be  another  expla- 
nation of  the  function  of  the  fool.  Recall  the  tempes- 
tuous character  of  the  king.  We  are  always  looking 
for  an  explosion  greater  than  the  one  before.    Now  the 


KING  LEAR  261 

fool  throughout  is  saying  things  that  would  cause  such 
an  outbreak  of  temper  had  they  been  said  by  any  one 
else  in  the  play.  It  is  only  because  they  originate 
with  the  fool  that  Lear  is  able  to  control  himself.  Yet 
we  are  constantly  wondering  how  long  the  king  will  be 
able  to  exercise  this  slender  self-control  which  hangs 
by  such  a  trifling  thread.  The  behavior  of  the  fool, 
then,  seems  to  me  to  be  intended  to  produce  the  effect 
of  lighted  matches  left  carelessly  in  the  neighborhood 
of  gunpowder.  It  may  go  off  at  any  moment.  If  it 
escapes  an  accidental  ignition  this  time  it  may  not  the 
next.  At  any  rate  there  is  sure  to  be  an  explosion 
some  time.  Just  when  will  it  come  ?  And  what  will  it 
bring  with  it? 

The  great  moment  comes  on  the  heath.  And  after 
this,  there  being  no  further  need  of  the  fool,  he  does 
not  appear  again. 

12.  Perhaps  it  would  not  be  amiss  at  the  conclusion 
of  this  set  of  questions  to  say  a  word  or  two  as  to  the 
degree  of  cruelty  displayed  in  the  story.  Though  I 
have  no  sympathy  with  the  suggestion,  it  has  been 
suggested  that  the  degree  of  cruelty  displayed  in 
Titus  Andronicus  is  sufficient  to  throw  doubt  upon  its 
Shakespearian  origin.  If  this  were  true,  one  might 
use  the  same  line  of  argument  in  regard  to  Lear.  The 
truth,  however,  is  that  neither  play  is  so  cruel  as  it 
seems  when  read  in  the  closet.  I  do  not  mean  to  say 
that  they  are  not  hard,  stern  stories,  almost  too  repul- 
sive to  read,  according  to  our  modern  standards.  I 
merely  mean  that,  from  the  Elizabethan  point  of  view, 
they  were  not  so  revoltingly  cruel  as  they  are  to  us. 

That  was  a  cruel  age.  People  went  habitually 
armed.    They  were  used  to  bloodshed.     It  was  a  part 


262  SHAKESPEARE 

of  the  education  of  the  young  women  of  the  family 
to  learn  to  dress  and  care  for  wounds.  I  imagine  that 
an  Elizabethan  woman  who  had  never  seen  a  violent 
death  would  be  as  rare  as  a  woman  to-day  who  had 
never  seen  a  horse  mistreated  in  the  streets.  Death 
was  the  penalty  for  many  petty  crimes.  People 
dressed  in  their  best  and  made  a  holiday  occasion  of 
a  public  execution.  To  some  people  to-day  football 
is  a  brutal  sport,  brutal  enough  by  nature  to  warrant 
association  with  bull-fighting.  But  this  is  a  humorous 
idea  to  college  students  or  to  players  on  the  team.  I 
mean  to  imply  that  we  may  look  upon  the  brutality 
of  these  plays  as  excessive,  while  the  Elizabethans 
looked  upon  it  as  normal.  Football  is  a  good  hard 
game  for  men,  it  is  not  tiddlety-winks.  So  the  Eliz- 
abethans would  look  upon  Lear  and  Titus  as  hard, 
stern  stories,  but  not  to  be  judged  adversely  because 
either  of  them  had  gone  too  far. 

And  there  is  another  point  to  be  borne  in  mind. 
How  was  this  brutality  enacted  on  the  stage?  Con- 
sult your  own  feelings  for  a  moment.  Suppose  you 
read  in  the  paper  that  A  plunged  a  knife  into  B's 
heart.  Are  your  feelings  the  same  as  they  would  be  if 
you  had  stood  at  A's  elbow  at  the  moment?  One 
might  faint  at  the  latter  situation,  but  hardly  over  the 
newspaper  account. 

Now  what  is  the  situation  in  the  theater  ?  Does  not 
the  manner  of  presentation  have  something  to  do  with 
the  result,  something  to  do  with  the  effect  produced, 
sufficient  to  take  the  edge  off  the  cruelty,  so  to  speak? 
The  crudest  act  in  Lear  is  the  gouging  out  of  Glou- 
cester's eyes.  But  they  are  not  really  gouged  out  on 
the  stage.    He  turns  his  back  at  the  moment,  and  does 


KING  LEAR  263 

not  let  the  audience  see  his  face  plainly  again  till  he 
enters  blindfolded.  It  is  a  hard  act,  to  be  sure,  and 
meant  to  be  so  taken.  But  the  effect  on  the  stage  is 
nothing  to  the  real  deed.  And  if  an  effort  were  made 
to  suddenly  apply  an  artificial  mask,  or  something  that 
would  show  the  vacant  bloody  sockets  in  their  repul- 
siveness  the  device  would  be  considered  clap-trap  and 
inartistic.  Everything  diminishes  in  effect  upon  the 
stage.  Therefore,  in  order  to  make  something  on  the 
stage  seem  cruel,  it  must  be  designed  as  very  cruel. 

Take  the  instance  in  Titus  where  the  arms  of  La- 
vinia  are  cut  off.  This  horrible  mutilation  of  her  body 
is  not  real.  Lavinia  wore  his  arms  throughout  the 
play.  How  was  it  staged?  I  do  not  know.  But  I 
can  guess  several  ways.  The  boy  who  acted  the  part 
may  have  kept  his  arms  behind  him.  Not  being  seen, 
they  were  imagined  gone.  I  think  it  more  likely  that 
he  wore  gloves.  There  is  some  reason  to  believe  that 
there  was  a  conventional  color  that  in  those  days 
stood  for  invisibility.  Doubtless  Ariel  wears  a  cloak 
of  such  material  in  certain  parts  of  The  Tempest.  So 
here,  Lavinia  may  have  worn  gloves  to  the  elbow  of 
this  material,  and  the  audience  would  have  assumed 
that  this  was  a  mere  device  meant  to  suggest  that  there 
was  nothing  to  be  seen  below  the  elbow.  However  it 
was  done,  we  may  be  sure  that  the  actual  presentation 
conveyed  far  less  of  the  repulsive  element  than  we 
are  prone  to  imagine  as  accompanying  the  actual  deed. 


CHAPTER  XIX 
MACBETH 

I.    Introductory 

The  state  of  the  original  text  of  Macbeth  is  so 
chaotic  that  editors  have  encountered  great  difficulties 
in  bringing  it  to  its  present  state  of  comparative  per-  * 
fection.  There  are  still  inconsistencies  and  contra- 
dictions remaining.  This  state  of  affairs  should  be 
borne  in  mind  at  several  points  of  the  play.  It  is  also 
thought  that  the  play  was  either  written  in  collabora- 
tion, or  finished  by  another  hand.  (See  Introduction, 
The  Tudor  Edition.) 

II.    Notes  on  the  Text 

I.  i.  This  scene  serves  to  forecast  the  weird  and 
serious  tone  of  the  drama,  and  suggests,  by  coming 
first,  how  important  a  part  the  witches  will  play  in 
the  development. 

This  scene,  and  other  similar  scenes  to  follow,  were 
probably  acted  on  a  partly  darkened  stage.  How  was 
this  managed  in  the  open  Elizabethan  playhouse? 
(See  chapter  on  The  Merchant  of  Venice.) 

I.  ii.  Many  editors  believe  this  scene  not  written 
by  Shakespeare.  The  meter  is  slovenly  and  the  ser- 
geant's speech  bombastic  and  inconsistent.  I  am 
inclined  to  think  that  Shakespeare  worked  with  a 
264 


j> 


MACBETH  265 

collaborator  and  that  he  fashioned  in  detail  only  the 
parts  of  the  two  Macbeths.  (See  below.)  Consider- 
ing the  loose  Elizabethan  practice,  however,  it  is 
hardly  justifiable  to  assume  mere  carelessness  of  style 
to  be  a  good  reason  for  rejecting  a  passage  as  Shake- 
speare's. 

I.  ii.  52.  Note  that  subsequently  Macbeth  must 
know  that  Cawdor  is  not  what  he  calls  him  in  I.  iii. 
73,  "  a  prosperous  gentleman." 

I.  iii.  Return  to  the  darkness  of  the  first  scene. 
Perhaps  the  curtains  are  partly  drawn  during  the 
progress  of  the  scene,  lightening  it  towards  the  end. 

I.  iii.  38.  "  So  foul  and  fair  a  day."  In  spite  of 
the  different  explanations  that  have  been  offered  con- 
cerning this  passage,  it  is  altogether  of  no  moment. 
Macbeth's  part  was  taken  by  the  principal  actor  of  the 
company.  This  is  his  first  entrance,  a  moment  al- 
ways accompanied  by  some  emotion,  if  not  actual  ap- 
plause. Naturally  the  first  few  lines  spoken  during 
this  period  are  of  little  importance.  If  the  audience 
missed  them  altogether,  nothing  significant  would  be 
lost.    The  passage  needs  no  special  explanation. 

Note  that  only  two  of  the  speeches  made  by  the 
witches  are  prophetical.  Macbeth  is  already  Thane 
of  Glamis. 

It  is  my  belief  that  Macbeth,  at  the  opening  of  the 
play,  is  an  honest,  high-minded  man  outwardly,  who 
has  as  yet  entertained  no  ideas  of  guilt.  Everything 
in  the  play,  with  one  possible  but  not  probable  excep- 
tion, bears  this  conception  out.  Hence  the  degree  of 
emphasis  laid  on  the  subject. 

I.  iii.  51.  Banquo  calls  attention  to  the  fact  that 
Macbeth  starts.     And   an   innocent   Macbeth   should 


266  SHAKESPEARE 


start.  The  thought  that  he  may  be  king  has  doubtless 
been  often  in  his  mind,  as  it  has  in  his  wife's,  and  in 
the  minds  of  the  people  throughout  Scotland  gener- 
ally. There  is  a  good  chance  of  his  becoming  king  in 
the  natural  course  of  events  without  the  necessity  of 
crime.  The  crown  did  not  always  go  in  direct  suc- 
cession— for  instance,  see  Hamlet.  The  two  possible 
successors  are  Malcolm  and  Macbeth.  One  is  young, 
inexperienced,  and  keeping  away  from  the  battlefield 
when  he  should  be  making  his  reputation.  Yet  he  has 
the  direct  blood  claim.  The  other,  not  so  near  in 
blood,  is  older,  experienced,  and  at  present  appearing 
as  the  savior  of  his  country  from  the  double  danger 
of  foreign  invasion  and  domestic  insurrection.  Ban- 
quo  does  not  speak  as  if  he  believed  the  possibility  of 
Macbeth's  succession  as  at  all  untenable.  It  is  hardly 
possible  that  Macbeth,  even  had  he  been  the  soul  of 
honor,  would  have  escaped  the  hope.  Now  he  hears 
supernatural  creatures  in  whom  he  believes,  declare 
the  future  fulfilment  of  his  desires.  Of  course  he 
starts.  And  there  is  no  reason  to  believe  it  a  guilty 
start. 

He  is  immediately  cast  into  a  brown  study.  He  is 
not  planning  his  crimes.  He  is  merely  wondering 
how  it  will  all  come  about.  He  has  no  doubt  of  the 
fact. 

I.  iii.  73.  Macbeth  speaks  of  Cawdor  whom  he  has 
just  overthrown  in  battle  as  "  a  prosperous  gentleman." 
(See  note  on  I.  iii.)  Macbeth  knew  better.  The  mes- 
sengers knew  that  he  knew  better.  There  is  no  point 
in  his  assertion.  It  cannot  be  explained.  It  is  mere 
contradiction.  It  may  be  due  to  a  corruption  in  the 
text;  or  to  careless  collaboration;  or  to  a  change  of 


MACBETH  267 

plan  on  the  part  of  Shakespeare  while  working.  It  is 
time  wasted  to  puzzle  over  it. 

Note  that,  throughout,  Banquo  is  not  so  supersti- 
tious as  Macbeth.  Had  Macbeth  been  less  so,  he 
might  have  escaped  his  ruin.     (See  note  on  V.  v.  43.) 

I.  iii.  104.  Ross  and  Angus  have  come  to  give  Mac- 
beth an  "  earnest."  This  word  implies  that  some- 
thing much  greater  is  to  follow.  What  does  Macbeth 
think  it  is?  He  believes,  thanks  to  the  witches,  that 
he  will  be  king.  The  present  king's  support  in  favor 
of  his  succession  will  probably  make  it  possible.  Is 
this  the  way  chance  will  crown  him  ?  Does  he  not  be- 
lieve that  this  is  what  the  messengers  refer  to?  Do 
they  think  so  themselves? 

I.  iii.  120.  That  trusted  home:  means,  if  you  trust 
too  implicitly  to  what  the  witches  have  said  you  may 
be  led  into  bringing  about  by  bad  means  what  you 
now  believe  will  come  about  naturally.  Note,  also, 
that  it  is  Banquo,  the  most  upright  man  in  the  play, 
who  first  puts  the  idea  of  possible  wrong-doing  in  the 
future  into  the  mind  of  Macbeth. 

I.  iii.  127-142.  Macbeth  believes  in  the  outcome. 
Yet  he  is  unable  to  see  how  it  will  come  about.  He 
knows  that  witches  are  considered  malignant  beings; 
yet  they  cannot  be  bad  in  the  present  instance,  because 
what  they  have  foretold  has  turned  out  true,  in  part, 
at  least.  (Suggestion  in  line  134  means  temptation.) 
Yet,  on  the  other  hand,  they  cannot  be  altogether 
good,  else  he  would  not  be  so  upset  by  the  idea  of 
temptation  that  Banquo  has  put  into  his  head.  A  man 
already  guilty  in  thought  would  not  be  so  overcome 
by  the  idea  of  his  possible  enactment  of  a  crime.  The 
very  thought  of  such  a  thing  (line  139)  is  repugnant 


268  SHAKESPEARE 

to  him  in  the  extreme.  He  will  not  even  contemplate 
such  a  course  (line  143).  The  meaning  of  the  line 
is:  "  If  chance,  that  is,  fate,  will  have  me  king,  fate 
must  bring  it  about,  not  I.  And  this  may  be  (line 
147),  as  one  can  never  tell  what  will  happen."  And 
immediately  Macbeth  has  disclaimed  any  personal 
responsibility  he  begins  to  feel  relieved. 

I.  iv.  This  is  the  scene  in  which  Duncan  appoints 
his  son  Malcolm  the  Prince  of  Cumberland.  This 
title  implied  that  he  would  be  the  successor  to  the 
crown.     Let  us  analyze  the  situation. 

Sufficient  attention,  it  seems  to  me,  has  not  been 
given  in  the  modern  discussion  or  staging  of  this  scene. 
The  announcement  is  a  fearful  slap  in  Macbeth's  face, 
whom  every  one  has  considered  as  a  possible  successor 
to  the  crown.  Macbeth  is  coming  home  in  triumph. 
Why  should  the  kindly  Duncan  select  this  public  mo- 
ment of  all  others  to  dash  Macbeth's  hopes  forever? 
The  action  is  so  unlike  the  nature  of  the  gentle  king 
that  it  requires  a  justification — at  least,  an  explana- 
tion. Duncan  has  met  Macbeth  with  a  warm  wel- 
come. His  mouth  has  outrun  itself  in  fashioning  ex- 
travagant expressions  of  gratitude.  The  most  he  can 
do  is  too  little  for  Macbeth's  deserts.  But  this  is  all 
rhetorical  flourish.  He  does  not  mean  a  word  of  it 
literally.  Macbeth,  however,  who  remembers  the 
witches'  prophecies  and  the  "  earnest,"  is  now  taking 
all  this  in  a  literal  sense.  Perhaps  Banquo  and  the 
others  share  this  impression  with  him.  Instead  of 
relegating  this  to  a  mere  scene  in  front  of  a  middle 
drop  as  is  so  often  done  nowadays  it  should  be  care- 
fully staged.  The  eyes  of  the  many  persons  present 
turn   towards    Macbeth   as   their   ears    drink    in    the 


MACBETH  269 

promises  of  the  king.  Gradually  positions  shift,  more 
people  grouping  themselves  about  Macbeth,  the  suc- 
cessor, than  about  Malcolm,  whose  youth  and  inexpe- 
rience have  caused  him  to  be  passed  over. 

This,  however,  is  all  due  to  a  mistake.  Duncan 
suddenly  realizes  what  is  happening.  Lest  it  be  too 
late  to  correct  it  to-morrow  he  determines  to  correct  it 
now.  The  gist  of  what  he  says  is  this:  Macbeth  is 
worthy  of  everything  I  can  do  within  reason.  But  do 
not  misunderstand  me.  I  intend  my  son  to  succeed  me. 
Therefore  I  appoint  him  the  Prince  of  Cumberland. 

There  is  a  splendid  opportunity  for  stage  effect  in 
this  sudden  opposite  turn  of  affairs. 

I.  iv.  48.  "  That  is  a  step."  Macbeth  means  that 
it  now  looks  as  if  the  witches'  prophecy  could  not 
possibly  come  true.  Or  else,  if  it  does,  it  will  only 
come  true  by  his  taking  some  means  to  overcome  this 
new  obstacle.  That  is  what  Banquo  suggested.  Mac- 
beth is  afraid  even  to  think  of  what  this  implies. 
This  is  certainly  not  the  line  of  thought  of  a  man 
already  hardened  to  the  contemplation  of  crime. 

I.  v.  Lady  Macbeth  is  reading  a  letter.  Through- 
out the  play  we  discover  that  husband  and  wife  are 
very  close  together.  (Search  the  play  throughout  for 
additional  proofs  of  this  assertion.)  In  the  first  part 
of  the  play  he  reports  everything  to  her.  She  knows 
his  character  through  and  through.  Her  speech, 
which  follows  the  text  of  the  letter  in  this  scene,  is  a 
soliloquy.  Hence  there  is  no  reason  for  her  not  speak- 
ing the  truth. 

She  says  that  Macbeth  is  too  full  of  the  milk  of 
human  kindness.  Modern  readers  frequently  mis- 
understand kindness  to   mean   sympathy,   or   tender- 


270  SHAKESPEARE 

heartedness.  In  this  line  the  word  is  used  in  its  old 
sense  of  naturalness — as  we  have  it  in  the  Biblical 
phrase  *  the  kindly  fruits  of  the  earth."  Human 
kindness,  then,  is  equivalent  to,  inherent  qualities  of 
human  beings.  Milk  implies  soft,  or  weak,  with  a 
touch  of  disapproval,  perhaps  not  quite  so  strong  as 
contempt.  The  sense  of  the  phrase  is  almost  opposite 
to  that  implied  as  a  rule  when  it  is  quoted  in  modern 
speech.  The  attribute  implied  is  anything  but  com- 
plimentary, even  less  so  on  the  lips  of  such  a  stern 
woman  as  Lady  Macbeth. 

Furthermore,  she  says  positively  that,  though  am- 
bitious, her  husband  would  achieve  his  desires  by  holy 
means.  We  must  at  least  acknowledge  that  if  Mac- 
beth entertained  criminal  intents  at  this  time  his  wife 
was  ignorant  of  the  fact.  But  she  could  not  possibly 
be  ignorant.  And  she  immediately  voices  (line  23) 
the  fatal  defect  of  his  character — he  would  profit  by 
the  wrong-doing  of  others.  It  is  upon  that  that  she 
depends.  If  he  will  but  put  the  management  of  this 
great  business  into  her  hands  for  her  to  despatch  all 
will  be  well.  This  soliloquy  alone  is  sufficient  to  out- 
line Macbeth's  character  at  the  beginning  of  the  play. 

I.  v.  63.  If  Macbeth  were  already  a  guilty  man  at 
heart  his  wife  would  not  find  it  necessary  to  coax  him 
not  to  show  in  his  face  that  such  ideas  are  new  to  him. 
She  would  not  find  it  necessary  to  impress  upon  him 
the  fact  that  his  natural  behavior  was  altogether  in- 
consistent with  a  career  of  crime.  If,  perchance,  she 
were  misjudging  him  he  would  seize  this  opportunity 
to  make  an  explanation.  He  does  not,  because  she  is 
right. 

I.   v.    72.    "  We   will  speak   further."     Does   this 


MACBETH  271 

conversation  ever  take  place?  On  or  off  the  stage? 
When  and  where? 

I.  vi.  This  is  a  division  scene.  During  the  interval 
Lady  Macbeth  has  talked  with  her  husband.  (See 
above,  line  72.)  She  has  persuaded  him,  as  she  thinks, 
to  follow  her  lead,  and  to  do  the  deed  she  has  sug- 
gested. Doubtless  she  found  the  task  difficult  to  ac- 
complish. At  the  opening  of  scene  vii.  Macbeth  is 
still  in  this  mood,  but  he  is  at  the  threshold  of  reac- 
tion, and  soon  drifts  back  to  a  more  honorable  state  of 
mind. 

I.  vii.  See  above.  Macbeth  for  a  moment  has  given 
up  to  his  worse  nature.  He  soon  begins  to  draw  back. 
At  first  his  objections  are  due  to  physical  fear  of  the 
consequences.  Then  his  thoughts  take  a  higher  turn 
and  he  objects  upon  moral  grounds.  At  last  he  re- 
solves not  to  do  the  deed  at  all. 

I.  vii.  28.  At  the  entrance  of  his  wife  he  tells  her 
of  his  change  of  mind.  This,  to  her,  is  the  milk  of 
human  kindness  in  his  nature  asserting  itself.  She 
realizes  that  her  task  of  persuasion  is  all  to  be  done 
over  again.  She  begins  by  irritating  him  with  the 
charge  of  cowardice. 

I.  vii.  48.  Lady  Macbeth  says  that  he  broke  the 
enterprise  to  her.  Evidently  he  did  not.  The  pas- 
sage, therefore,  is  hard  to  explain. 

In  the  first  place,  it  may  be  due  to  a  corruption  of 
the  text. 

Or,  she  may  not  be  telling  the  truth,  trusting  to  his 
excitement  to  prompt  him  to  overlook  the  fact,  hoping 
it  will  lead  him  to  fall  in  with  the  notion  that  he  is 
drawing  back  from  something  that  he  really  did  pro- 
pose. 


272  SHAKESPEARE 

Or,  what  I  believe  is  more  likely,  in  the  off-stage 
conversation  (see  I.  v.  72)  she  may  have  insinuated 
her  ideas  to  him  so  skilfully  that  he  did  in  reality 
actually  phrase  them  first  though  she  virtually  pro- 
posed them. 

In  other  words,  the  passage  may  or  may  not  be 
construed  in  accordance  with  the  view  here  set  down 
of  Macbeth's  character.  If  the  latter  interpretation 
is  assumed  we  should  remember  that  this  single  coup- 
let is  opposed  to  many  and  frequent  indications  of  the 
contrary.     This  fact  robs  it  of  its  value. 

One  reason  why  I  am  so  insistent  on  this  view  of 
Macbeth's  character  is  that  it  rounds  out  the  picture 
of  his  personality  so  much  better  than  any  other  con- 
ception, and  is  better  dramatic  construction.  There 
are  evidences  that  Shakespeare  has  worked  out 
the  character  of  Macbeth  carefully,  both  before  and 
after  the  play  begins.  Later  in  the  play  Macbeth  says 
there  was  a  time  when  his  senses  would  have  cooled 
to  hear  a  night-shriek.  I  think  that  Shakespeare  con- 
ceived Macbeth  as  one  of  those  persons  who  have  a 
great  repugnance  to  physical  suffering.  He  had,  at 
first,  for  instance,  to  steel  himself  against  the  horrible 
sights  of  a  battlefield.  But  the  training  of  war  had 
gradually  made  him  callous  to  bloodshed.  He  had 
undergone  the  change  that  so  many  sensitive  surgeons 
have  gone  through. 

Later  in  life  he  goes  through  the  same  process  in 
regard  to  moral  wrong.  The  whole  of  the  change  is 
included  in  the  present  play.  It  takes  up  the  history 
at  the  very  beginning  of  the  change,  not  after  it  has 
already  progressed  to  a  considerable  degree,  and  car- 
ries him  on  relentlessly  to  the  end. 


MACBETH  273 

At  the  end  of  this  scene  Macbeth  is  once  more 
persuaded  to  carry  out  his  wife's  plans. 

A  preliminary  word  as  to  the  character  of  Lady 
Macbeth:  Remember  that  in  Elizabethan  times  her 
part  was  taken  by  a  boy.  Not  until  the  time  of  Mrs. 
Siddons  was  her  part  looked  upon  as  the  principal 
part  of  the  play.  We  should  not  lose  sight  of  the  fact 
that  she  is  to  be  dominated  by  her  husband  so  far  as 
the  stage  presentation  goes.  Her  character  is  simple, 
and  not  beyond  the  immature  acting  of  a  boy. 

At  first  she  is  painted  as  a  stern,  ambitious  woman, 
and  one  who  is  capable  of  shrewd  character  analysis. 
She  is  absolutely  unscrupulous,  and  willing  to  do  any- 
thing to  urge  her  husband  to  a  great  crime.  She  is 
also  tactful,  and  able  to  see  quickly  the  possibilities 
of  a  new  situation.  On  the  other  hand,  she  is  not  a 
monster.  She  has  tender  feelings  regarding  her  child. 
She  is  affected  by  the  similarity  of  the  king  to  her 
father.  She  is  as  ambitious  for  her  husband  as  for 
herself.  Yet  she  is  not  able  to  continue  under  the 
strain  indefinitely.  (See  II.  iii.  131,  the  discussion 
as  to  whether  Lady  Macbeth  faints  or  not.)  And  she 
ends  with  utter  collapse  in  the  sleep-walking  scene. 
This  shows  that,  though  she  can  commit  a  crime,  she 
cannot  do  so  without  compunction,  as  her  more  callous 
husband  learns  to  do  before  the  end  of  the  play. 

Search  for  passages  throughout  the  play  illustra- 
tive of  the  above  characteristics. 

II.  ii.  1.  What  is  the  antecedent  of  "that"?  Is 
it  drink  ?  or  merely  the  situation  ?  That  which  has  de- 
manded that  the  grooms  be  drugged  has  demanded 
that  I  be  bold? 

This  scene  involves  the  time  of  the  murder.     II.  iii. 


274  SHAKESPEARE 

59,  etc.,  implies  that  there  was  a  terrible  storm  at  the 
time.  Yet  Lady  Macbeth  could  hear  the  owls  and  the 
crickets,  sounds  not  usually  very  prominent  in  a 
storm.  In  fact,  a  stage  storm  at  this  point  ruins  the 
effect  and  was  not  intended.  Furthermore,  violent 
noise  here  ruins  the  effect  of  the  subsequent  knocking 
on  the  gate.  (See  De  Quincey's  essay  on  this  sub- 
ject.) 

Yet  the  contradiction  implied  by  II.  iii.  58,  etc.,  is 
not  a  blemish,  or  something  to  be  condoned.  It  is  an 
intentional  stage  device.  During  this  scene  the  audi- 
ence gets  all  the  advantageous  effect  of  weird,  un- 
canny silence  and  soft  sounds.  These  are  interrupted 
with  tremendous  effect  by  the  knocking  on  the  gate 
which  brings  the  audience  back  to  the  every-day  life 
they  have  left  shortly  before.  Later,  when  reference 
is  made  to  a  terrible  storm,  Shakespeare  was  merely 
making  use  of  the  contemporary  belief  that  a  storm 
accompanied  a  great  crime.  The  greater  the  storm  the 
greater  the  crime,  and  vice  versa. 

II.  ii.  53.  "  Give  me  the  daggers."  This  should  not 
be  uttered  too  dramatically.  All  is  hushed  and  quiet. 
If  Lady  Macbeth  were  to  assume  a  bombastic  air  of 
superiority  over  her  husband  she  would  ruin  the  effect, 
as  most  actresses  I  have  seen  do.  Yet  the  task  must 
be  done,  and  by  her.  She  should  act  as  if  she  sym- 
pathized with  her  husband,  yet  is  able  to  do,  though 
reluctantly,  that  which  he  has  not  been  quite  equal 
to. 

II.  ii.  56.  It  is  often  suggested  that  Lady  Mac- 
beth's  pun  on  guilt  and  gild  implies  a  grotesque  touch 
of  humor.  Any  one  who  is  familiar  with  Elizabethan 
conditions  would  be  inclined  to  deny  the  above  asser- 


MACBETH  275 

tion.  In  fact,  the  Elizabethan  attitude  towards  puns 
was  altogether  different  from  ours. 

In  our  day  and  generation  we  either  laugh  at  or 
with  a  punster.  The  possibility  of  a  laugh  is  assumed. 
Three  hundred  years  ago  the  laugh  was  acci- 
dental. 

The  vocabulary  was  rapidly  increasing.  A  good 
punster  needed  a  full  command  of  the  vocabulary, 
and  a  ready  memory  that  could  instantly  recall  all 
the  words  of  similar  sound,  though  of  different  mean- 
ing. The  ability  to  do  so  excited  admiration  rather 
than  mirth.  The  Elizabethan  attitude  towards  a 
punster  was  like  our  attitude  towards  a  sleight-of- 
hand  juggler.  A  funny  piece  of  jugglery  makes  us 
laugh,  but  one  that  is  not  funny  arouses  our  admira- 
tion for  the  skill  displayed  and  the  juggler's  control 
over  his  muscles. 

Hardly  any  one  would  discover  a  touch  of  humor 
in  the  repeated  puns  uttered  by  the  dying  Gaunt  in 
Richard  the  Second.  The  dexterity  displayed  by 
them  merely  suggests  that,  though  dying,  the  great 
statesman  is  still  in  full  possession  of  all  his  senses. 
Else  he  would  not  be  able  to  pun.  So  here.  Lady 
Macbeth  is  sufficiently  cool  and  self-controlled  to  pun. 
There  is  no  question  of  humor. 

Why  is  the  knocking  on  the  gate  of  the  castle 
introduced  ? 

Compare  its  effect  following  a  violent  stage  storm 
with  its  effect  under  the  conditions  of  the  setting  sug- 
gested above. 

Note  how  many  details  of  this  scene  are  recalled 
in  the  sleep-walking  scene. 

II.  iii.    The  porter's  speeches  were  comic  to  the 


276  SHAKESPEARE 

Elizabethans.  People  of  that  day  demanded  a  certain 
mingling  of  the  comic  element  with  the  most  tragic 
themes.  This  was  commoner  in  the  days  of  the 
Miracle  Plays;  almost  intolerable  to-day.  It  was 
more  frequent  in  the  plays  of  other  Elizabethan  dram- 
atists than  in  the  plays  of  Shakespeare. 

II.  iii.  24.  Enter  Macduff.  In  the  structure  of 
this  play  Macduff  is  the  opposite  of  Macbeth.  He 
is  the  second  main  character,  for  the  structure  is  like 
that  of  Othello  and  Hamlet.  Yet,  in  the  development 
of  the  play,  the  character  and  the  function  of  Mac- 
duff are  so  slighted  that  one  may  easily  miss  the 
significance  of  his  part.  It  is  not  possible  to  account 
for  this  neglect.  Perhaps  it  is  due  to  the  corrupt 
condition  of  the  text;  perhaps  to  the  mediocre  work 
of  a  collaborator;  perhaps  to  the  fact  that  the  play 
was  either  not  quite  finished,  or  finished  hurriedly 
without  actually  being  completed. 

II.  iii.  69.  Imagine  the  strain  on  the  Macbeths 
while  they  are  waiting  the  discovery  of  the  murder, 
and  its  effect,  especially  upon  Lady  Macbeth. 

II.  iii.  131.  Does  Lady  Macbeth  faint  or  pretend 
to  faint? 

It  has  been  urged  that  Lady  Macbeth  pretends  to 
faint  because  she  can  in  this  way  distract  attention 
from  her  husband.  Heretofore  her  presence  has  been 
the  only  sufficient  control  over  him.  To  say  the  least, 
it  would  be  unwise  of  her  to  withdraw  this  control 
when  at  the  most  it  would  only  serve  as  a  momentary 
distraction. 

It  has  been  suggested  that  Lady  Macbeth  pretends 
to  faint  in  order  to  convince  others  of  her  horror  of 
the  murder.      This   is   slightly   more   plausible  than 


MACBETH  277 

the  above.  Still,  she  must  face  the  risk  of  leaving 
her  husband  unassisted. 

There  is,  however,  a  still  more  plausible  explana- 
tion. Macbeth's  murder  of  the  grooms,  which  was  not 
in  the  original  plan,  was  a  blunder  from  all  points 
of  view.  Lady  Macbeth  realizes  this  fact  and  is 
horror-stricken.  But  all  her  wits  are  about  her. 
Macbeth's  extemporaneous  attempt  to  justify  him- 
self (line  114,  etc.)  is  a  stroke  of  genius  on  his  part. 
It  is  very  convincing  and  genuine.  Lady  Macbeth 
immediately  realizes  that  he  has  at  last  found  him- 
self able  to  rise  fully  to  the  occasion.  The  milk  of 
human  kindness,  which  she  formerly  deplored,  is 
overcome  forever.  He  can  now  take  care  of  himself. 
He  no  longer  needs  her  assistance.  A  great  wave  of 
relief  sweeps  over  her.  It  is  the  last  straw.  Her 
endurance  snaps.     And  she  really  faints. 

Note  that  the  sons  of  the  king,  immediately  recog- 
nizing foul  play,  resolve  to  fly.  There  is  no  indica- 
tion that  they  at  once  suspected  Macbeth  more  than 
another,  or  others.  And  Malcolm  appeared  almost 
as  a  coward  at  the  opening  of  the  play. 

II.  iv.  Enter  an  old  man.  In  the  Elizabethan 
plays  such  a  nameless  character  usually  indicates 
public  opinion.  The  "  old  man  "  here  implies  that 
suspicion  has  begun  to  get  abroad  in  general,  rather 
than  harboring  in  one  particular  person's  breast. 

Macduff  suggests  that  the  sons  of  the  king  have 
done  this  deed,  suspicion  resting  upon  them  because 
they  have  fled.  If  he  is  telling  the  truth  it  is  not 
much  to  the  credit  of  his  common  sense.  They  would 
not  have  planned  a  murder  that  would  have  required 
them  to  fly  the  moment  it  was  successfully  accom- 


278  SHAKESPEARE 

plished,  thus  compelling  them  to  give  up  all  the  advan- 
tages to  be  derived  from  it.  Besides,  Malcolm  has 
nothing  to  gain  from  such  a  crime.  He  has  already 
been  appointed  Prince  of  Cumberland.  But  Macduff 
is  probably  not  telling  the  truth.  His  actions  subse- 
quently show  that  he  really  suspected  Macbeth.  It 
is  just  possible,  however,  that  he  did  not  acquire  this 
suspicion  till  after  the  murder  of  Banquo. 

III.  i.  By  this  time  Banquo  has  begun  to  see 
through  Macbeth.  It  is  time  for  him  to  act  in  order 
to  guard  against  this  new  danger. 

III.  i.  10.  Stage  direction.  In  the  meantime  the 
coronation  has  taken  place  off-stage. 

III.  i.  15-42.  Note  the  phrases:  Ride  you  this 
afternoon?  Is't  far  you  ride?  Goes  Fleance  with 
you?  These  are  so  buried  in  the  conversation  that 
Banquo  has  no  idea  why  they  are  asked.  Why  are 
they  asked? 

III.  i.  48,  etc.  Would  Macbeth  make  such  unfa- 
vorable comparisons  between  himself  and  Banquo? 

The  Elizabethan  soliloquy  serves  a  double  purpose: 
1.  It  gave  the  inmost  thoughts  of  the  person  speak- 
ing. 2.  It  served  as  a  direct  means  of  communica- 
tion between  the  author  of  the  play  and  the  audience. 
As  an  illustration  of  the  former  read  Macbeth,  I.  v. 
16,  etc.  As  an  illustration  of  the  latter,  read  Henry 
the  Fourth,  Part  I,  I.  ii.  218,  etc.  This  is  not  in 
keeping  with  the  character  of  Prince  Hal.  It  is 
Shakespeare's  apologetic  message  to  the  audience  that 
he  is  not  permanently  trifling  with  the  character  of 
the  great  king,  Henry  the  Fifth. 

III.  ii.  In  the  last  scene  we  learned  that,  now  that 
he  is  king,  Macbeth's  troubles  are  really  just  begin- 


MACBETH  279 

ning.  In  the  present  scene  we  learn  that  his  wife, 
in  spite  of  her  former  confidence,  is  in  the  same 
condition. 

The  question  arises  as  to  why  Macbeth,  who  was 
formerly  so  in  harmony  with  his  wife,  did  not  take 
her  into  his  confidence  regarding  the  murder  of 
Banquo. 

1.  In  the  beginning,  she  wished  to  rouse  him  to 
the  point  of  taking  the  initiative.  If  she  could  do 
this  her  work  was  done. 

2.  Macbeth  has  so  far  progressed  in  crime  by  now 
that  it  is  getting  easier  to  him,  and  he  is  willing  to 
take  the  initiative  himself.  He  desires  his  wife's 
good  opinion  and  thinks  that  this  independent  course 
will  please  her.  It  is  not  a  sign  that  he  has  lost  con- 
fidence in  her. 

III.  iii.  There  has  been  much  discussion  regarding 
the  identity  of  the  third  murderer.  Such  discussion 
is  time  wasted.  There  is  no  indication  in  the  play 
as  to  who  he  is.  To  assume  that  he  is  Macbeth  is 
to  make  of  the  latter  a  man  of  poor  judgment  and 
clumsy  behavior.  The  supposition  is  also  contradictory 
to  his  behavior  in  the  banquet  scene.  Show  how 
this  is. 

III.  iv.  The  Banquet  Scene.  It  is  well  to  draw 
a  stage  plan  showing  how  the  persons  should  be 
placed. 

Should  the  ghost  of  Banquo  actually  enter,  or  not? 
It  has  been  staged  both  ways. 

III.  iv.  46.  How  can  Macbeth  say  that  the  table 
is  full  without  recognizing  the  ghost? 

Note  how  alert  Lady  Macbeth  is  to  divert  attention 
from  her  husband.     Part  of  her  lines  are  to  her  hus- 


280  SHAKESPEARE 

band  as  asides.  When  she  speaks  of  the  air-drawn 
dagger  she  evidently  does  not  see  anything  in 
Banquo's  chair.  But  she  knows  from  the  direction 
of  her  husband's  eyes  that  whatever  he  sees  is  there. 

The  moment  the  ghost  disappears  Macbeth  grows 
more  calm,  but  he  goes  to  pieces  again  the  moment 
it  reappears. 

III.  iv.  119.  Notice  that  Lady  Macbeth  dismisses 
the  guests  in  a  hurry.  Why  does  she  do  it  at  just 
this  moment? 

She  dismisses  them  at  a  moment  when  her  husband 
was  really  in  a  little  better  control  over  himself  than 
shortly  before.  It  is  hardly,  then,  because  he  is  going 
to  pieces  that  she  does  it. 

At  this  point  I  think  she  sees  the  ghost;  and  it  is 
because  she  fears  she  will  go  to  pieces  herself  that 
she  sends  the  guests  away. 

1.  This  is  quite  in  accordance  with  the  contem- 
porary belief  in  ghost-lore. 

2.  It  constitutes  an  intermediate  step  in  her  own 
nervous  and  mental  breakdown. 

3.  When  the  room  is  empty  she  would  have  ques- 
tioned her  husband  as  to  what  he  saw,  if  she  did  not 
already  know. 

4.  Similarly  Macbeth  would  have  told  her  what 
he  has  seen  if  he  did  not  know  that  she  had  herself 
seen  the  ghost  and  understood. 

5.  This  supposition  gives  the  actress  a  much  better 
opportunity  to  display  her  powers  than  if  she  is  sup- 
posed not  to  see  the  ghost. 

6.  Lady  Macbeth  probably  thinks  now  that  the 
others  will  see  it,  too. 

III.  iv.    142.    Lady   Macbeth   seems  to   have   lost 


MACBETH  281 

interest  in  her  husband's  plans.  She  sees  that  the 
game  is  up.  This  apathy  is  the  beginning  of  the  de- 
cline that  ends  in  the  sleep-walking  scene. 

III.  v.  Note  the  additional  witch,  and  the  change 
in  meter.  Perhaps  the  later  witch  scenes  are  inter- 
polated, or  written  over  later  by  another  hand  than 
Shakespeare's. 

III.  iv.  Somewhere  about  here  is  the  location  of 
the  technical  turning-point.  It  is  not  possible  to 
defend  one  exact  moment  rather  than  another.  Note 
how  little  has  been  made  of  Macduff  up  to  this  point, 
and  how  poorly  his  character  has  been  carried  out  in 
the  remainder  of  the  play.  Compare  with  Othello, 
a  model  of  perfection  of  this  kind  of  construction, 
where  the  two  opposing  figures  are  Iago  and  Othello. 

IV.  i.  Note  the  ambiguous  characteristics  of  the 
second  set  of  prophecies  as  compared  with  the  literal 
directness  of  the  first  set. 

IV.  i.  111.  "A  show  of  eight  kings."  These  are 
the  Scottish  Stuarts,  the  last  of  which  was  on  the 
throne  of  England  at  the  time  Macbeth  was  written. 
Those  seen  in  the  glass  merely  indicate  the  hope,  on 
the  part  of  Shakespeare,  that  there  would  be  many 
more.  This  sort  of  anachronism  was  not  objection- 
able to  the  Elizabethans.  There  is  another  example 
of  it  in  the  play.  The  scene  describing  the  touching 
for  the  king's  evil  refers  to  the  revival  of  an  obsolete 
custom  in  the  reign  of  King  James. 

IV.  ii.  The  character  of  Macduff  is  very  poorly 
drawn.  Examine  his  knowledge  of  the  dangerous 
state  of  Scotland,  which  he  shows  he  is  familiar  with 
in  a  later  scene  where  he  discusses  the  subject  with 
Malcolm.     Under   such  circumstances   he  would  not 


282  SHAKESPEARE 

have  left  his  wife  and  children  unprotected.  And  his 
wife,  though  she  calls  him  such,  did  not  believe  him 
a  coward.     Nor  was  he. 

Before  we  condemn  Shakespeare  for  the  cruelty  of 
a  scene  like  this  we  should  bear  in  mind  the  temper  of 
the  time.  Both  sports  and  laws  were  cruel  to  such 
an  extent  that  a  mutilation  or  a  killing  offended  the 
audience  no  more  than  a  hard  beating  would  offend 
to-day.  (See  the  subject  discussed  in  the  chapter  on 
King  Lear.) 

IV.  iii.  This  poorly  written  scene  is  sometimes  said 
not  to  be  by  Shakespeare's  hand.  It  may  not  be. 
There  is  no  positive  way  of  telling.  It  is  well  to 
note,  however,  that  it  is  written  as  if  it  belonged  to 
a  much  longer  play  than  the  present  play.  It  may 
be  from  another  play,  from  another  and  more  lengthy 
draft,  or  it  may  be  poor  writing  on  the  part  of  Shake- 
speare, or  of  a  collaborator.  Note  also  that  the  char- 
acter-drawing of  Macduff  and  Malcolm  is  poorly  done. 

IV.  iii.  76.  Malcolm's  lies  are  preposterous,  and 
Macduff  is  a  fool  to  believe  them.  How  do  they  serve 
as  a  test  of  Macduff's  honesty? 

V.  i.  Why  is  the  sleep-walking  scene  considered 
so  great? 

The  value  of  this  scene  is  not  in  its  words.  Rather 
in  the  way  the  scattered  exclamations  of  Lady  Mac- 
beth manage  to  review  the  whole  play  for  us  in  a 
moment.  Note  how  each  detail  touches  some  impor- 
tant point,  some  great  moment  of  the  play.  In  other 
words,  this  scene  is  a  digest  of  Macbeth,  and  the 
greatness  of  the  scene  is  but  a  reflection  of  the  great- 
ness of  the  play  as  a  whole. 

From  here  to  the  end  of  the  play  we  have  merely 


MACBETH  283 

the  dramatization  of  the  remainder  of  the  narrative, 
the  result  of  which  had  been  already  guessed  by  the 
audience. 

There  is,  however,  one  point  of  unusual  interest 
(see  V.  v.  43),  "to  doubt  the  equivocation  of  the 
fiend."  This  phrase  means,  "  to  suspect  the  double- 
dealing  of  the  witches." 

The  audience  was  already  familiar  with  the  his- 
torical story  of  Macbeth,  and  was,  therefore,  familiar 
with  the  double  meaning  of  the  prophecies  long  before 
the  truth  was  discovered  by  Macbeth.  The  audience 
would  be  on  the  watch  for  his  behavior  when  he  made 
the  discovery.  All  along  Macbeth  has  proceeded  on 
the  assumption  that  the  witches  were  altogether  right. 
Now  he  realizes  that  they  were  not;  that  it  was  his 
own  failure  to  understand  them  as  well  as  Banquo 
would  have  understood  them  which  has  driven  him  to 
his  present  state  of  ruin.  This  is  the  real  nemesis  that 
comes  to  him  in  the  play.  He  has  been  deluded  and 
fooled  to  his  destruction.  In  comparison  to  his  mental 
anguish  at  this  moment  his  death  is  a  welcome  relief. 

III.    The  Character  of  Macduff 

Macduff  should  be  a  character  that  vies  with  Mac- 
beth in  importance,  but  he  is  not.  Go  through  the 
whole  play  noting:  1.  How  little  is  told  of  Macduff. 
2.  What  is  actually  told  of  Macduff.  3.  The  char- 
acteristics of  Macduff  to  be  inferred  from  his  actions, 
and  from  what  others  say  of  him.  4.  Is  the  picture 
of  him  consistent?  5.  Is  the  picture  of  him  com- 
plete ? 


284  SHAKESPEARE 

IV.    Was  there  a  Collaborator? 

It  is  not  safe  to  conclude  that  because  we  find  evi- 
dence of  careless  work  in  the  play  it  is  therefore  not 
wholly  by  Shakespeare.  He  was  often  careless.  On 
the  other  hand,  it  is  a  notable  fact  that  parts  of  this 
play  show  the  greatest  evidence  of  care  and  skill. 

The  play  seems  to  drop  in  interest  in  the  middle, 
both  in  artistic  and  dramatic  quality.  Most  of  the 
praiseworthy  points  are  to  be  found  in  the  first  half; 
most  of  the  blamable  details  are  to  be  found  in  the 
second  half.  Most  of  the  blamable  details  of  the  first 
half  have  to  do  with  those  scenes  in  which  the  Mac- 
beths  do  not  figure.  Most  of  the  praiseworthy  parts 
of  the  second  half  have  to  do  with  those  scenes  in 
which  the  Macbeths  do  figure. 

Is  it  not,  then,  a  fair  inference  that  Shakespeare 
himself  worked  out  the  characters  of  Macbeth  and 
of  Lady  Macbeth,  and  that  a  collaborator  worked  out 
the  Macduffs.  This  theory  implies  that  the  two  prin- 
cipal parts  of  the  play  were  composed  by  different 
hands. 

(See  the  chapter  on  dramatic  structure  in  explana- 
tion of  the  suggestion  that  Macduff  should  be  of  equal 
importance  with  Macbeth.  The  structure  of  this  play 
is  of  the  type  to  which  is  referred  Othello  and 
Hamlet.) 


CHAPTER  XX 
THE  TEMPEST 

I.    Introduction 

Sir  G.  Somers  was  wrecked  on  the  shores  of  the 
Bermudas  in  16*09.  In  1610  three  accounts  were  pub- 
lished of  this  shipwreck.  These  were  probably  be- 
fore Shakespeare,  yet  fresh  in  the  popular  mind, 
when  he  wrote  The  Tempest.  A  careful  consideration 
of  them,  together  with  the  external  evidence,  suggests 
some  time  early  in  1611  as  the  date  of  the  appear- 
ance of  this  play. 

Several  contemporary  writings,  and  the  history  of 
Italy,  suggest  innumerable  details  of  the  play.  There 
is,  however,  no  single  original  to  which  the  author  is 
indebted  for  the  major  portion  of  the  drama. 

The  duration  of  the  action  is  a  few  hours  following 
the  shipwreck. 

The  play  was  first  published  in  the  Folio. 

Some  critics  see  in  The  Tempest  an  element  of 
autobiography.  Prospero  is  Shakespeare.  His  end- 
ing his  work  of  necromancy  symbolizes  Shakespeare's 
retirement  from  the  stage,  and  the  theatrical  world 
in  general.  It  is,  however,  not  necessary  to  believe 
this  fact,  hard  in  any  case  to  prove,  in  order  to  ap- 
preciate the  play. 

The  play  has  appeared  in  the  Variorum  Edition  and 
285 


286  SHAKESPEARE 

has  also  appeared  in  the  Dowden  Edition.  The  latter 
gives  a  full  account  of  the  wreck  of  Somers  and  the 
published  descriptions. 


II.    Notes  on  the  Text 

In  the  Century  Magazine  for  December,  1911, 
there  appeared  an  article  by  the  eminent  scholar  and 
student  of  Elizabethan  conditions,  Mr.  Corbin,  deal- 
ing with  the  Elizabethan  setting  of  The  Tempest. 
There  will  be  found  a  very  suggestive  illustration  of 
the  stage  setting  for  the  first  scene.  I  have  followed 
some  of  the  suggestions  of  this  article  elsewhere  in 
the  present  volume;  others  therein  mentioned  were, 
however,  conclusions  arrived  at  independently. 

I.  i.  The  scene  is  of  the  nature  of  a  little  prelim- 
inary pageant.  It  is  referred  to  in  the  next  scene 
but  is  hardly  sufficient  to  get  the  story  fairly  started. 
The  real  story  of  the  play  deals  with  the  love  affair 
of  Ferdinand  and  Miranda. 

I.  ii.  With  the  details  of  Mr.  Corbin's  article 
fresh  in  mind,  let  us  imagine  this  scene  acted  with  the 
fallen  chains  and  other  paraphernalia  of  scene  i. 
still  upon  the  stage.  Instead  of  being  a  detriment 
this  will  help  to  link  the  scene  to  the  first  one  and 
thus  bring  out  the  continuity  of  the  story  even  before 
the  relation  is  made  clear  by  the  words  of  Prospero. 

This  scene  starts  the  principal  thread  of  the  story, 
that  of  Ferdinand  and  Miranda;  and  gives  to  the 
audience  the  necessary  introductory  matter.  Note 
how  much  introduction  there  is  and  how  long  drawn 
out. 

I.  ii.  15.    Note  how  quickly  and  how  emphatically 


THE  TEMPEST  287 

we  are  told  that  the  storm  of  scene  i.  is  a  mere  sham. 
There  is  no  real  danger,  and  the  tone  of  all  is  mere 
playfulness. 

I.  ii.  37.  Though  Miranda  has  never  heard  the 
story  of  her  life  Prospero  tells  it  here  in  detail  in 
reality  for  the  information  of  the  audience.  This,  the 
story  of  Ariel,  and  that  of  Sycorax  and  Caliban,  con- 
stitute the  introductory  material.  Query:  Is  there 
too  much  of  it?  Could  it  be  shortened  to  advantage? 
Could  the  material  be  differently  distributed  ?  Would 
anything  be  gained  by  getting  the  entrance  of  Ferdi- 
nand and  Miranda  earlier  in  the  play? 

I.  ii.  57.  It  was  Shakespeare's  custom  not  to  fool 
the  audience.  He  is  here  engaged  in  informing  fully 
as  to  what  has  happened.  Contrast  in  this  respect  the 
practice  of  Ben  Jonson.  See,  for  a  good  example  of 
the  opposite,  The  Silent  Woman. 

I.  ii.  Let  the  student  recall  some  of  the  earlier 
plays  of  Shakespeare.  In  them  we  often  encounter 
long  speeches  which  are  monotonous  to  read  and  still 
more  monotonous  to  hear  upon  the  stage.  Here  we 
find  a  much  more  skilful  method  of  procedure.  The 
long  account  of  Prospero  is  broken  up  by  the  occa- 
sional remarks  and  questions  of  Miranda,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  interrupting  the  montony  of  what  would  other- 
wise be  a  long  address  from  her  father. 

I.  ii.  189.  We  have  already  been  told  in  so  many 
words  that  the  subject-matter  of  this  play  is  all 
trivial,  it  is  a  mere  comedy  from  the  beginning,  alto- 
gether light-hearted.  The  reference  to  Prospero's 
power  over  the  storm,  to  his  magic  mantle,  and  now 
the  appearance  of  Ariel  tell  us  once  for  all  that  this 
is  a  fairy-story.     And  it  should  thus  be  taken  by  the 


288  SHAKESPEARE 

reader,  or  by  the  audience.  There  is  nothing  serious 
about  it.  Some  critics,  however,  see  in  it:  1.  Shake- 
speare's farewell.  2.  A  psychological  study  of  a 
woman  raised  absolutely  alone.  S.  Merely  a  delight- 
ful tale.  If  one  delights  in  either  the  first  or  the 
second  interpretation  he  must,  perforce,  be  grateful 
to  the  author.  But,  for  my  part,  I  owe  a  sufficient 
debt  to  Shakespeare  not  to  increase  it  by  such  an 
additional  burden. 

I.  ii.  195.  Ariel  describes  his  behavior  at  the  time 
of  the  event  related  in  scene  i.  There  was,  however, 
probably  no  attempt  to  stage  these  antics  of  the  spirit. 
Though  Ariel  says  he  caused  amazement,  there  is  no 
reference  to  him  or  his  eccentricities  in  scene  i. 

I.  ii.  244.  Ariel  is  universally  good-natured  and 
obedient  with  a  willing  heart  throughout.  This  mo- 
mentary "  moodiness  "  is  introduced  merely  to  give 
Prospero  a  chance  to  tell  the  elfin's  story  for  the 
benefit  of  the  audience. 

I.  ii.  374.  The  entrance  of  Ferdinand  marks  the 
real  beginning  of  the  story,  or,  at  least,  the  main 
thread  of  it. 

II.  i.  The  first  180  lines  of  this  scene  are  mere 
by-play.  There  is  more  of  this  sort  of  writing  than 
usual  in  one  of  Shakespeare's  plays — that  is,  text 
that  fails  to  advance  the  plot  or  to  delineate  crucial 
points  of  character. 

II.  i.  215.    What  becomes  of  this  conspiracy? 

II.  ii.,  III.  ii.  Caliban,  Trinculo,  and  Stephano 
form  the  low  comedy  element  of  the  play.  What  be- 
comes of  this  conspiracy?  In  fact,  should  one  raise 
this  question  seriously  at  all?  Or  should  one  accept 
their  antics  as  a  mere  comic  parody  of  the  other  more 


THE  TEMPEST  289 

serious  conspiracy,  and  expect  nothing  of  it?  Does, 
and  if  so,  why  should,  Prospero  take  more  pains — 
perhaps  I  should  say,  more  space — to  nullify  their 
efforts  than  the  efforts  of  the  other  conspirators? 

III.  ii.  136.  Here  and  for  some  time  Ariel  has 
been  invisible.  How  would  this  fact  be  suggested  on 
the  Elizabethan  stage?  In  some  scenes  in  the  plays 
a  person  is  visible  to  the  audience,  yet  supposed  to 
be  invisible  to  those  on  the  stage.  He  has  no  diffi- 
culty in  carrying  his  part.  The  illusion  of  the 
situation  is  produced  by  the  behavior  of  the  others. 
Again,  the  invisible  person  is  not  on  the  stage  at  all, 
yet  the  audience  is  able  easily  to  infer  his  presence. 
There  is  reason  to  believe  that  on  the  Elizabethan 
stage  a  conventional  color  to  a  garment  represented 
invisibility.  Thus,  in  Titus  Andronicus  there  is  a 
point  where  Lavinia  enters  after  her  arms  have  been 
cut  off  at  the  elbows.  When  I  have  an  opportunity  to 
add  an  account  of  this  play  to  the  present  volume  I 
shall  try  to  show  that  the  play  does  not  deserve  its 
usual  treatment  at  the  hands  of  critics  regarding  its 
un-Shakespearian  element  of  cruelty.  Lavinia  at  the 
entrance  alluded  to  above  probably  wears  gloves  of 
this  conventional  color,  thus  rendering  her  hands  in 
the  imagination  invisible,  that  is,  cut  off.  Here  Ariel 
is  probably  garbed  in  a  cloak  of  the  same  color.  He 
is  undoubtedly  present  and  visible  to  the  audience, 
for  it  is  the  appearance  of  the  spirit  that  gives  point 
to  the  allusion  to  the  picture  of  Nobody.  Yet  Trinculo, 
who  makes  the  remark,  probably  does  not  see  Ariel. 

IV.  i.  139.  Prospero  drops  the  mask  and  takes  up 
the  matter  of  the  more  trivial  conspiracy  with  ex- 
treme suddenness.     (See  the  former  note  on  Caliban's. 


290  SHAKESPEARE 

conspiracy.     Is  Prospero  justified  in  being  so  greatly 
moved  on  the  present  occasion?) 


III.    Analysis  of  the  Plot 

I.  i.  Alonso  and  his  companions  are  wrecked  in 
an  enchanted  storm  off  Prospero's  island.  There  are 
no  forecasting  allusions  to  subsequent  portions  of  the 
play,  and  no  names  are  mentioned. 

I.  ii.  This  scene  opens  by  showing  that  Prospero 
raised  the  storm  that  figures  in  scene  i.;  and  Prospero 
tells  Miranda  that  no  real  harm  was  done  by  the 
storm.  Thus  both  scenes  are  linked  together,  and  we 
catch  both  the  playful  and  the  magical  elements. 

Prospero  outlines  to  Miranda  their  early  history; 
and  the  same  is  done  in  connection  with  Ariel;  and 
the  same  with  Caliban. 

Then  enters  Ferdinand,  with  whom  Miranda  im- 
mediately falls  in  love.  As  this  could  easily  have 
been  prevented  by  her  magical  father,  we  are  left  to 
suppose  that  it  is  really  the  result  of  his  machina- 
tions. Here  is  where  the  main  story  in  reality  begins. 
Prospero  assumes  a  harshness  towards  Ferdinand 
which  he  does  not  feel. 

Note  that  though  some  of  the  other  characters 
have  appeared  in  scene  i.,  they  are  not  really  intro- 
duced till  II.  i.     This  is  unusual. 

II.  i.  The  principal  survivors  enter  and  talk  about 
the  shipwreck,  and  are  finally  put  to  sleep  by  Ariel. 
Sebastian  and  Antonio  plan  the  murder  of  Alonso, 
but  are  prevented  by  his  sudden  awakening  by  Ariel. 

II.  ii.  Caliban  meets  Stephano  and  Trinculo. 
They  form  a  sort  of  confederacy. 


THE  TEMPEST  291 

III.  i.  Ferdinand  and  Miranda  disclose  their  love 
for  each  other. 

III.  ii.  Caliban  and  his  fellows  hatch  out  the  comic 
conspiracy  against  Prospero. 

III.  iii.  The  banquet  which  mysteriously  vanishes. 
Ariel  appears  in  the  form  of  a  harpy.  Prospero  up- 
braids Alonso  and  the  rest  for  their  treatment  of  him. 

IV.  i.  Prospero  approves  the  love  of  Ferdinand 
and  Miranda.  Then  follows  the  mask,  which  is  en- 
tirely an  undramatic  digression  introduced  for  the 
mere  purpose  of  spectacular  entertainment.  This  is 
suddenly  dropped  at  its  end,  after  which  Caliban  and 
his  fellows  are  chased  off  the  stage  by  hounds. 

V.  i.  Prospero  reveals  himself  to  the  others.  All 
are  happily  reconciled.  Caliban  and  his  fellow- 
conspirators  are  let  off  with  a  merciful  neglect. 

This  complicated  plot  may  be  resolved  into  the  fol- 
lowing threads : 

1.  Prospero's  banishment,  which  is  eventually  the 
means  of  bringing  all  the  characters  of  the  play  hap- 
pily together  at  the  end. 

2.  Alonso's  wreck,  which  brings  him  into  contact 
with  Prospero. 

3.  The  love  of  Ferdinand  and  Miranda.  This  is 
the  main  thread  of  the  story. 

4.  The  plot  against  Alonso  by  his  equals,  suddenly 
dropped,  however,  without  being  brought  to  a  con- 
clusion. 

5.  The  comedy-element  plot  against  Prospero  by 
Caliban,  etc.,  which  is  a  parody  of  thread  number  4. 

6.  A  mask  in  celebration  of  the  love  of  Ferdinand 
and  Miranda,  really  a  part  of  thread  number  3. 

The  plot  may  be  graphically  represented,  as  in  the 


292 


SHAKESPEARE 


following  diagram.  The  figures  in  the  top  line  refer 
to  the  thread  numbers  mentioned  above.  The  numerals 
in  the  left  column  denote  act  and  scene.  The  dots 
represent  the  appearance  of  the  particular  part  of 
the  story. 


1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

I.   i. 

• 

I.   ii. 

• 

• 

II.  i. 

• 

• 

II.    ii. 

• 

III.   i. 

• 

III.   ii. 

• 

III.   iii. 

• 

IV.    i. 

• 

• 

V.   i. 

• 

• 

• 

• 

Note  further.  The  story  begins  with  2,  which 
forms  a  sort  of  framework.  The  second  scene  brings 
in  1,  which  consists  mainly  of  preliminary  material 
necessary  to  the  understanding  of  what  follows. 

3  is  the  main  story.  It  is  simply  told.  There  is 
no  opposition  or  complication  save  Prospero's  mo- 
mentary harshness  to  Ferdinand.      Relatively  it  oc- 


THE  TEMPEST  293 

cupies  less  space  than  is  usual  with  the  principal 
thread. 

4  looks  for  a  while  as  if  it  were  intended  to  exem- 
plify nemesis  on  Alonso.  But  it  comes  to  naught 
and  is  left  unfinished.  What  frustrating  there  is 
is  due  to  Prospero,  who  is  heaping  coals  of  fire. 

In  the  last  scene  all  threads  are  brought  together 
except  4,  which,  however,  is  alluded  to  as  immaterial: 
1.  Prospero's  banishment  is  over.  2.  Alonso  recovers 
his  ship.  3.  Ferdinand  and  Miranda  are  happily 
married.  5.  Caliban  and  his  fellows  are  reproved  but 
not  punished. 

IV.    The  Character  of  Prospero 

Many  a  man  has  whiled  away  an  evening  in  a  coun- 
try store  by  telling  a  good  yarn.  His  purpose  is  to 
pass  the  time  and  to  please  his  audience.  Perhaps 
the  same  man  on  another  occasion  attempts  to  correct 
the  follies  of  his  child  by  relating  in  familiar  guise 
the  story  of  the  Prodigal  Son.  To  infer  from  the 
latter  situation  that  the  former  is  impossible,  that  the 
elder  never  speaks  without  intending  some  dark  and 
hidden  significance  to  his  words,  is  to  imply,  to  say 
the  least,  an  extraordinary  lack  of  human  quality. 

There  seems  to  be  a  tendency  on  the  part  of  some 
persons  who  have  written  about  the  subject-matter 
of  Shakespeare's  plays  to  deny  to  the  author  this 
human  quality,  to  deny  the  possibility  of  his  writing 
as  so  many  have  written,  merely  for  the  purpose  of 
passing  the  time  with  a  delightful  narrative.  There 
is  a  great  idea  of  moral  consequence  dominating  Ham- 
let.    I  can  find  nothing  but  a  pleasing  tale  in  A  Mid- 


294  SHAKESPEARE 

summer  Night's  Dream.  Nor  does  the  mere  fact  that 
The  Tempest  is  probably  the  last  of  Shakespeare's 
plays  convince  me  that  it  contains  an  abridged  ency- 
clopedia of  all  the  author's  knowledge  of  all  things. 
It  may  be,  as  a  recent  critic  thinks,  that  Caliban  is 
a  remarkable  embodiment  of  the  supernatural,  the 
social  order  of  the  day,  and  Elizabethan  politics.  I 
say,  it  may  be  true,  but  it  is  not  clear.  To  me  it  is 
a  monster  such  as  Othello  speaks  of,  such  as  Shake- 
speare read  about  in  the  numberless  travel  narratives 
of  the  day. 

The  Tempest,  I  take  it,  is  one  of  the  pleasantest 
stories  ever  written  for  the  stage.  There  is  a  kindly 
geniality  about  it,  the  loveliness  of  serene  maturity. 
And  if  there  be  an  underlying  moral  lesson,  is  it 
more  than  that  one  does  well  to  forget  an  injury,  to 
turn  away  wrath  with  a  soft  answer?  to  disarm  an 
enemy  by  turning  to  him  the  unstricken  cheek  ?  This, 
at  least,  is  the  example  of  the  play,  and  it  is  acted 
out  most  significantly  in  the  character  of  Prospero. 

He  is  a  man  of  high  social  rank,  a  lover  of  books, 
and  so  well  trained  and  educated  that  he  can  teach 
his  daughter  Miranda  all  that  she  needs  to  know. 
With  it  all  he  has  acquired  the  art  of  magic,  through 
the  possession  of  which  he  works  a  bad  beginning  into 
a  good  end. 

Though  he  has  been  badly  treated,  there  is  no 
malice  in  his  nature.  He  is  quick  to  affirm  that  no 
harm  will  come  of  the  shipwreck.  He  has  his  old 
enemies  in  his  power.  His  first  thought,  however,  is 
not  to  punish  them,  or  revenge  himself,  but  to  reform 
them,  and  to  bring  good  results  out  of  the  chance 
meeting. 


THE  TEMPEST  295 

It  is  easy  to  comprehend  why  the  common  people 
of  Naples  loved  him.  He  is  kindly  and  genial  to  all. 
Careful  of  details  for  others'  good,  his  main  interest 
is  in  the  welfare  of  his  child.  When  Ariel  exas- 
perates him  he  is,  for  a  moment,  petulant,  but  it  is 
only  a  momentary  rebuke  that  follows.  Ariel  is  soon 
pleased  again  and  ardent  to  do  his  master's  bidding. 
Prospero  never  fails  to  praise  a  well-done  task.  Even 
his  relations  to  Caliban,  harsh  as  his  words  some- 
times are,  are  illustrative  of  his  forgiving  nature  and 
his  forbearance.  And  when  he  treats  Ferdinand 
harshly  for  the  sake  of  future  benefit  he  does  it  with 
a  naive  clumsiness,  as  if  the  role  were  unfamiliar. 

Most  notable  among  Prospero's  characteristics  is 
his  treatment  of  his  enemies.  He  has  been  harshly 
treated  himself,  but  there  is  no  lingering  desire  for 
revenge  in  his  composition.  When  his  enemies  come 
unbidden  to  his  door  his  one  impulse  is  to  make  them 
friends.  He  entertains  no  ill  feeling  against  Ferdi- 
nand. He  keeps  a  supernatural  watch  which  frus- 
trates the  attack  upon  Alonso,  which  is  so  like  the 
earlier  conspiracy  against  himself,  and  which  Alonso 
so  justly  merits.  He  does  not  scruple  to  expose  the 
conspirators'  wickedness,  but  he  does  so  gently,  and 
magnanimously  refuses  to  reveal  the  plot  of  the 
traitors  now  that  it  has  come  to  naught  and  their 
hearts  have  changed. 

Prospero  is  throughout  the  great,  genial,  lovable, 
and  loving  man,  who  works  miracles  by  the  power  of 
his  gentle  personality. 


296  SHAKESPEARE 

V.    The  Elizabethan  Staging 

The  play  requires  in  reality  but  two  sets.  One  is 
used  in  the  first  scene,  and  not  used  again.  The 
other  is  used  throughout  the  rest  of  the  play. 

1.  The  shipwreck  would  probably  be  set  as  sug- 
gested by  Mr.  Corbin.  (See  Century  Magazine,  De- 
cember, 191 1.) 

2.  The  other  set  is  arranged  so  that  it  can  be  used 
in  two  ways.  The  outer  stage  is  bare.  Properties 
are  introduced  on  the  middle  stage  to  suggest  out-of- 
doors  on  the  island.  These  are  probably  brought  in 
while  the  traverse  is  drawn  during  the  first  185  lines 
of  II.  i.  The  inner  stage  is  concealed  by  a  drop 
helping  the  illusion  of  "  out  of  doors."  Behind  this 
Prospero's  cell  is  set  up  on  the  inner  stage.  Raising 
and  lowering  this  drop  accommodates  all  the  succeed- 
ing scenes. 


INDEX 


Act   division,   71 

Acting,   106 

Actor,   Shakespeare   as,  5 

Actors,  companies  of,  4, 
25;  customs  of,  29;  of 
women's  parts,  179;  boy, 
179 

Acts,  music  between,  34 

Admiral's  Men,  4 

Admission  to  theaters,  29 

Alleyn,  4 

Anachronisms,  226,  242 

Antic  disposition  passage, 
222 

Audience,  30;  seating,  31; 
on  the  stage,  40;  charac- 
ter of,  42 

Balcony    scene    of    Romeo 

and   Juliet,   158 
Bale's  King  Johan,  87 
Bankside,  26 

Battle  scenes,  107,  108,   149 
Bear   Garden,  the,   28 
Beginning    and    end    of    a 

play,  66 
Bible   as   known    to   Shake- 
speare, 2 
Blackfriars,    the,    29 
Blank   verse,   56,   156 
Bolingbroke,    character    of, 

130 
Boy   actors,   179 
Brutus,    structural    relation 

to  Julius  Caesar,  191 
Buckingham,    character    of, 

108 
Bugle  call  at  the  beginning 

of  a  play,  33 


Burbage,  James,  builder  of 
The   Theater,  26 

Caesar,  Julius,  notes  on  the 
text,  190;  structural  re- 
lation  of   Brutus  in,   191 

Catastrophe,   the,  68,   70 

Character  drawing,  Shake- 
speare's method  of,  177 

Character  study,   108 

Children  in  Shakespeare's 
plays,    104 

Chorus,   143,   144 

Chronicle  play.  See  His- 
tory plays. 

Cloths,    painted,    33 

Comedy,  structure  of,  180; 
mixed    with    tragedy,    219 

Companies  of  players,  4,  5; 
of  actors,  25 

Construction  of  Romeo  and 
Juliet,  114 

Contradictions,  apparent, 
274 

Costume,  stage,  36,   193 

Cruelty  of  the  time,  262, 
282 

Cumberland  passage,  Prince 
of,   268 

Curtain,  The,  27 

Curtain,   traverse,   33 

Darkening    the     stage,     47, 

188,   245,   264 
Declamations,  108,  143,  144, 

158,   175 
Derby's   actors,  4 
Devil  lore,  220 


297 


298 


INDEX 


Division  scenes,  73,  104,  116, 

179,  271 
Dog's  name,   159 
Dominant   idea,   65 
Dumb-show  in  Hamlet,  235, 

281 
Duration    of    performance, 

183 

Edward    the    Second    com- 
pared   with    Richard    the 
Second,    112 
Elizabethan   fools,  259 
End,   structural,  of  Romeo 
and  Juliet,   129;   of  Mer- 
chant of   Venice,   182 
Exciting   force,   67,   69,   117 
Experimental       nature       of 
Shakespeare's  early  plays, 
137 

Falconry,   170,   225 
Falling  action,  68,  70 
Falstaff,  absent  from  Henry 

the   Fifth,  135 
Flagstaff,    27,   29 
Folio,  51;  reprints  of,  54 
Fool,    the,    in    King    Lear, 

259 
Fortune,  The,  28 

Ghost-lore,  216 
Globe,  The,  27 

Hal,  Prince,  character  of, 
140,  146 

Hamlet,    character    of,    248 

Hamlet's  Mouse-trap,  227; 
madness,  246 

Hamlet,  early  history,  207; 
Quarto  of,  207;  relation 
to  Kyd,  208;  notes  on  the 
text,  216;  stage  setting, 
234,  243;  structure  of,  237 

Hawking,   170,   225 

Heavens.   32 


Henley  Street,  Stratford,  1 

Henry  the  Fifth,  character 
of,   141,   146,  147 

Henry  the  Fifth,  relation 
to  other  plays,  134;  notes 
on  the  text,  138;  date  of, 
139;    stage    setting,   149 

Henslowe,    4 

Hentzner,   8 

History  plays,  85;  Shake- 
speare's improvements  in, 
93;  by  Shakespeare  clas- 
sified, 94;  relation  to 
Shakespeare's  work,  136 

Hunsden's  actors,   5 

Hut  in  theaters,  31 

Indefinite     characters,     104, 

277 
Induction,   158 
Inner   and  outer  scenes,  39 
Inner  stage,  38 
Inter-act  music,  34 
Introduction  of  play,  67,  68; 

of    Richard    the    Second, 

114 
Invisibility,  how  represented 

on  the  stage,  289 
Italian   crime,   the,  241 

Jew     of     Malta     compared 

with   Shylock,    176 
Jig  at  end  of  play,  35,  182 
Johan,  King,  87 
John,  King,  92 
John,  Troublesome  Reign  of 

King,  90 

Kenilworth,  Shakespeare  at, 

2 
King  Johan,  87 
King  John,  92 
King      John,      Troublesome 

Reign  of,  90 
King  Lear,  cruelty  in,  262; 


INDEX 


299 


the  fool  in,  259;   method 

of   study,   250 
King's  Men,  5 
Kyd,  see  Spanish   Tragedy, 

relation   of  Hamlet,  208 

Lancaster  plays,    95 

Lear,  King,  method  of 
study,  250;  the  fool  in, 
259;  cruelty  in,  262 

Leicester's    Men,  4 

Literary  piracy,   209 

London,  importance  and  ex- 
tent of,  7,  8 

Love  scenes,  158 

Lucy,  Sir  Thomas,  4 

Macbeth,   character   of,  272 
Macbeth,      notes      on      the 

text,   264;    state   of   text, 

264 
Madness   of   Hamlet,   246 
Marlowe's    Edward    the 

Second,   112 
Marlowe    and    Shakespeare, 

97,    112;    Jew    of    Malta 

compared  to  Shy  lock,  176 
Merchant    of    Venice,    The, 

notes    on    the    text,    174; 

plot    analysis,    182;    stage 

setting,  183 
Meter,  56,  58 
Mouse-trap,    227 
Music  between  acts,  34 

Naming   of   players,    156 
Nemesis,   131,  254 

Painted    cloths,   33 
Patriotism,    121 
Performance,    duration    of, 

183 
Piracy,  literary,  209 
Playhouses.    See  Theaters. 
Plot  analysis   of  The  Mer- 


chant of   Venice,  182;  of 

The   Tempest,  290 
Poison,   use   of,   241 
Presentation  of  a  play,  33 
Prince  Hal,  140,  146 
Prologue,  33,   138,   139,    156 
Pronunciation,  58,  159 
Properties,   35 
Prose,  use  of,  55 
Prospero,  character  of,  293 
Publication  of  plays,  49,  51, 

209 
Puns,  121,  274 

Quartos,  list  of,  50;  of 
Hamlet,  207 

Repetition  in  Borneo  and 
Juliet,  156,  160 

Richard  the  Second  com- 
pared with  Edward  the 
Second,  112;  notes  on  the 
text,  113;  construction  of, 
114;  introduction,  114; 
character  of  the  king,  118 

Richard  the  Third,  Shake- 
speare's picture  of,  86 

Richard  the  Third,  notes  on 
the  text,  98;  plausibility 
of  the  wooing  scene,  100; 
setting  of  the  battle  scene, 
108 

Rising  action,  67,  69 

Romeo  and  Juliet,  style  of, 
155;  notes  on  the  text, 
156 ;  tragic  conclusion, 
158,  165;  balcony  scene, 
158;  comic  suggestions, 
161,  162,  164 

Rooms  in  theaters,  30 

Rose,  The,  27,  28 

Scansion    of    Shakespeare's 

meter,   58 
Scene,  use  of  a  title,  34 
Scenery      (see     Properties, 


300 


INDEX 


Stage  setting,  Darkening 
the  stage),  use  of,  36;  in 
Henry  the  Fifth,  149 

Scenes,  battle,  107,  149;  di- 
vision, 72,  104,  116,  271; 
inner  and  outer,  39;  love, 
158;   structure  of,   181 

Shadow,   the,   32 

Shakespeare,  John,  1,  2 

Shakespeare,       William, 
birth  of,  1;  at  school,  1; 
at  Kenilworth,  2;  and  the 
Bible,  2;  marriage,  3;  ed- 
ucation, 2,  3;  leaves  Strat- 
ford, 4;  in  London,  4,  5 
as  an  actor,  5;  works,  6 
property  in  Stratford,  6 
income,    6;    as    a    history- 
student,  86;  improvements 
in   history   play,   93,    136; 
and  Marlowe,  97,  112,  176; 
method    of   character 
drawing,  177 

Shorthand,  209 

Shrew,  Taming  of  the,  notes 
on  the  text,  158;  idea  of 
the  play,  172 

Shylock  compared  with  the 
Jew  of  Malta,  176 

Snitterfield,  1 

Soliloquy,  98,  194,   195,  278 

Spanish  Tragedy,  relation  to 
Hamlet,  208,  210 

Stage,  audience  on,  40;  con- 
struction, 30,  31;  cos- 
tume, 36,  193;  darkening 
of,  47,  188,  245,  264;  in- 
ner, 38;  properties,  35; 
setting  of  plays,  149,  183, 
234,  243,  286,  296;  upper, 
31,  108,  169 

Storms  on  the  stage,  274 

Strange's   Men,  4 

Stratford,    1,   4,   6 

Street,  Peter,  28 

Structure  of  a  comedy,  180; 


of  Julius  Caesar,  190;  of 

Hamlet,  218 
Style  of  Borneo  and  Juliet, 

155;  of  The  Tempest,  287 
Sub-stage   effects,  33 
Superstition,    101,    120,   194, 

216,    220,    228 
Swan,  The,  28 

Taverns,  used  as  theaters, 
25,  26 

Tempest,  The,  source  of, 
285;  notes  on  the  text, 
286;  staging  of,  286;  an- 
alysis of  the  plot,  290; 
stage   setting  of,  296 

Theater,    The,    26 

Theaters,  the  flagstaff,  27, 
29;  admission,  29;  con- 
struction, 30 ;  audience, 
30;  rooms,  30;  seats,  30; 
the  yard,  30 

Time    of   performance,    183 

Title  of  scene,  34 

Topical  allusions,  176 

Tragedy  mixed  with  com- 
edy, 219 

Tragic  conclusion  of  Ro- 
meo  and   Juliet,    165 

Traverse  curtain,  33 

Troublesome  Reign  of  King 
John,   The,  90 

Turning-point,  68,  69,  124, 
127 

Upper  stage,  31,  108,  169, 
234 

Witchcraft,  influence  of,  101 
Women's  parts,  179 
Wooing    scene    in    Richard 

the  Third,  plausibility  of, 

100 

Yard   of  theater,   30 
York  plays,  95 


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